


In Your Name (including Coda)

by Bohemia



Series: King & Lionheart [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, M/M, Modern Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 04:50:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 156,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4291413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bohemia/pseuds/Bohemia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>{REPOSTED} For someone with so many secrets, Merlin doesn't think he's very good at lying. So agreeing to discuss his friendship with the Prince of Wales at University as part of a televised documentary is probably not a good idea. Juggling magic, Royal protocol, suave (and persistent) Dukes, a Princess with attitude, and a serious amount of coursework was only the start. Oh and then there was Arthur himself. Yeah, probably shouldn't mention much about that...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Mr Emrys?”

Merlin looked up to find Percy peering expectantly around the doorframe of the plush hotel room. He swiftly let go of the loose thread on his jumper that had served as a distraction for the past twenty minutes and wiped his palms on his trousers. “Yes?”

“We’re ready for you now, if you’d like to follow me.”

Merlin slowly rose from the chair he’d been perched in and made to follow Percy into the corridor. He ignored the anxious glances Gwen and Lance were shooting him from across the room; their concern would only undo the tenuous hold he had on his nerves and he couldn’t risk falling apart. Not here, not now.

“So, you don’t need to worry about being brief,” Percy was saying as Merlin tuned back in. “Like I said earlier, we’ll be thoroughly editing all of the interviews, but from ou r point of view it’s better for us to have excess material than not enough.”

“I really don’t think people will be very interested in anything I have to say,” Merlin shrugged as he followed Percy into the room at the end of the corridor. God, but that wasn’t true, was it? He knew why he was here; he knew what they were going to be asking him to talk about. He was horribly aware that people would be dissecting his every word, looking for clues that would lead them closer to the truth he’d tried so hard to hide. “I’m nobody.”

A throaty, feminine laugh came from behind him and he almost tripped over his own feet as he involuntarily turned towards the source. His heart sank further as he took in the familiar, blonde figure sashaying towards him with a predatory smile on her face. Morgause Gorlois had been lurking on the periphery of his life for the past two years and he kicked himself for bein g so unprepared to deal with her now. He knew she’d be the one he had to face; but somehow he’d convinced himself it would be okay. The spark of insecurity he’d been feeling all day suddenly flared into a blazing unease and he curled his fingernails into his palms to stop himself from blurting out something he knew he’d regret later.

“Come on, Mr Emrys,” Morgause ran her tongue across her bottom lip in what she clearly thought was a seductive manner, “everyone knows you aren't ‘nobody’.”

“I really don’t have anything interesting to say.” Merlin invoked as much confidence as he could muster into his voice and hoped she’d missed the faint tremor. “ I haven’t seen Arth-,” he pressed his fingertips further into the soft skin before he corrected himself, “His Royal Highness in months. We graduated in July and haven’t stayed in touch.”

"This isn’t about now,” Morgause smirked as she gripped his arm and led him towards a plush sofa. “This is about then.”

Merlin’s hands automatically reached out for purchase as he sank into the soft cushions, each finger slipping over the material uselessly. Before he could reply, he found his hair being roughly tugged into shape by one woman as another applied a thick layer of powder to his face.

“Look,” he croaked out eventually, receiving bristles in his mouth for his pains, “I don’t even really know why I’m here.”

“Your name was on the list of approved interviewees we received from Clarence House’s Press Office,” Morgause was now balanced carefully on the edge of an armchair directly opposite, leaning towards him with another devious-looking smile. “We thought it better to include you in the interview segments, rather than have you face t he speculation surrounding your absence. I’m sure you’re aware of the public interest in this programme, and by extension, in you.”

Merlin forced himself to remain silent. Of course he knew what would have happened if he’d refused the invitation to appear; even still, it had taken Gwen and Lance three solid days of pestering him with annoyingly sensible arguments to get him to agree. For the sake of his sanity, and that of his friends’ he needed to be here if he was ever going to be allowed to get away from him.

“I’m glad you agree,” Morgause flipped her long hair over her shoulder and settled casually against one arm of the chair. “All you need to do is share some anecdotes of your time at university with His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales. Obviously we have a clear idea about what our audience will be interested in hearing about so just allow me to guide the conversa tion. We’ll start at the beginning, of course, but we’d really like to follow the progression of your friendship through until graduation.”

“Can we just get on with this?” Merlin practically spat as his jumper was smoothed over his shirt for what felt like the hundredth time by yet another of Morgause’s production crew. Gwen had told him that he needed to look at this like he was pulling off a plaster – “it’ll hurt a bit, of course it will, but it’ll be quick” – and really he just wanted to get the inevitable over and done with.

“Certainly,” Morgause smirked, the clear hint of a challenge swirling in her eyes, “we’ve got a lot to get through, after all.”

Merlin looked quickly at his watch and sighed. It was barely nine am and he knew Gwen’s stint in front of the camera wasn’t scheduled until four-thirty that afternoon. He hoped she and Lance w ouldn’t stray too far from the hotel room he’d left them in; he had a horrible feeling he’d be needing them before Morgause was finished with him.

“Right, Mr Emrys,” Percy called from next to one of the cameras that had been set up for a unobstructed view of Merlin’s face, “Morgause will lead you through the interview. All you need to do is answer as accurately, and in as much detail, as possible, okay?”

“Please,” Morgause purred, “don’t hold back.”

Merlin nodded shortly and resigned himself to his fate.

“Quiet, please,” Percy called one more time and the production team immediately stilled. “Action in three, two, one.”

Morgause looked directly into one of the cameras. “It was well-documented in the press that, despite a large circle of acquaintances, Prince Arthur formed only a few close friendships with fellow students during his time at Albion. One of those friendships was with Merlin Emrys, a then-English Literature student, who had no prior association with the Prince. Even casual readers of the press could not have failed to notice the headlines that documented the dramatic meeting of these two young men in the winter of their second year of study at the prestigious university.”

Merlin had a horrible feeling that this section could have been pre-recorded without the need for him to be present, but with the other camera trained firmly on him he couldn’t allow himself the slightest squirm. He held himself rigid as Morgause continued to introduce him to a public who already knew exactly who he was.

“Merlin,” Morgause turned to address him directly once more and he schooled his features into something he hoped approximated detachment, “the events of December fourteenth, just over two years ago now, will be preserved in the annals of Bristish history for centuries to come.”

Merlin nodded slowly as Morgause paused.

“The world looked on as the dramatic scenes unfolded, and until now there has never been a personal account of the day from the two people involved; you and Prince Arthur.” Morgause drew back and fixed him with another treacherous smile. “It seems fitting that as Prince Arthur’s first year of Royal Duties is about to dawn that we hear the full story of what happened, from you; the man who saved the Prince’s life.”

Oh God, Oh God, OhGodOhGodOhGod. Ground, Merlin thought, I’d appreciate it if you would open up and swallow me now. I can’t do this. I am going to kill Gwen. Please don’t make me relive all of this. Once was enough for a lifetime.

“So,” Morgause fixed him with a stare and he immediately stilled once more, “why don’t give us some context first. What brought you to Meribel in the first place?”

With a quick plea to any greater power that would listen, Merlin took a deep breath and began to speak.


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m sure everybody knows everything about this already,” Merlin gulped as Morgause fixed him with a cold stare. Out of the corner of his eye Merlin could see Percy opening his mouth – probably to get them to start again.

But Morgause continued before anyone could stop anything. “Well, yes. But the finer details have always been missing. Don’t hold back. Just give an honest account.”

 _Honest_  – that was a word that rankled. See, Merlin wasn’t actually very good at lying; Arthur, of course, would argue otherwise, but at this stage that was neither here nor there. He wasn’t going to lie to Morgause, he was just going to selectively leave out two minor (read: MASSIVELY IMPORTANT AND INTEGRAL TO EVERYTHING) details; firstly the fact that he was more than a little bit magic probably shouldn’t come to light on national television; secondly, he was  _not_  going to talk about any emotional attachment, or otherwise, to the blond prat who still took up eighty ( ** _ninety_** _)_ percent of his thoughts on a daily basis. He was going to have to think carefully, speak honestly, and just hope his internal filtering system would prevent him from giving too much away to Morgause. “Well…”

* * *

To say Merlin wasn’t well-travelled when he arrived at the University of Albion would be an understatement of epic proportions. Discounting the one other trip he’d made to UA for his interview ten months earlier, the furthest he’d been from home was to the outskirts of Cardiff, a whole eleven miles from his house in Ealdor. Even then the only reason he’d been that far was due to a ill-organised school theatre trip that had ended in the bus breaking down on a diversion back to the village college he attended.

So when emails started going round for the annual UA Ski Trip to the French Alps it didn’t take much persuasion from his new friends to get him to sign up for a place. It didn’t matter that he’d never skied before, Lance had told him, there’d be lessons in the morning for beginners and he’d even help Merlin improve in the afternoons. His mother had practically threatened to sign him up herself when he started to worry about how much it would cost, telling him he’d just have to do extra shifts in the pub when he came home for Christmas to top up the contribution she was making as an early Christmas present. Gwen’s contribution of support was that she promised to fall over with him and partake in consolatory hot chocolates whenever necessary.

Ignoring the trial that was the eighteen-hour coach journey from UA to Meribel (and back), Merlin could honestly state that he enjoyed every minute of the trip. He’d all but signed up for the next one before they’d even left the resort.

If he’d known how different the  _second_  trip was going to be he probably wouldn’t have bothered.

**ooOOoo**

Despite what some people thought, Merlin hadn’t actually spent his first year at Albion hiding in his room. He went to the pub with Gwen and Lance, and occasionally made appearances when it was Indie Night at the Students’ Union. Just because he didn’t go out  _every_ night that didn’t mean he was a recluse – what it actually meant was that he had other things to do.  _Better_ things to do, like make sure he didn’t bring down a wall of his halls building when he got irrationally angry with the toaster with an unintentional wave of his hand.

He’d always had what his mother had eventually decided was ‘magic’, and this tended to mean odd things happened around him, generally when he was feeling an extreme of emotion, or if it was Tuesday – there was definitely something more magical about Tuesdays.

But whatever it was that had kept Merlin in his room during fir st year, he wasn’t shielded enough to have missed that Arthur, ‘Prince of Wales, heir to the throne, and all-round social Golden Boy (literally  _golden_ )’ Pendragon was also a first-year student. Thankfully Merlin was studying Literature and Arthur was taking History, so at least he was getting an education that wasn’t constantly interrupted by bodyguards removing girls taking ‘covert’ snaps on iPhones from lecture theatres. Yet, even though Albion was a fairly small university ‘city’ Merlin had only seen the Crown Prince once during that year, and that was when Arthur had been battling to stay upright as he scarfed down a portion of chips from the burger van by the engineering department after a pub-crawl in the week following exams.

There was, therefore, no reason for Merlin to anticipate that his social life was going to change spectacularly when he stepped off the coach in Meribel’s main square for the second year in a row.

“I’m so pleased to be back here!” Gwen announced flinging her arms wide as if she could embrace the mountains looming around her in the twilight.

“It’s brilliant,” Merlin beamed as he grabbed his holdall from the coach’s hold and slung one of Gwen’s bags over his shoulder. Lance chivalrously shouldered his girlfriend’s other bag before leading the way to the hostel. “No lectures, no essays, no-“

“Arthur!” Gwen hissed.

“Well, yeah,” Merlin frowned, “I was going to say ‘no washing up’, but I suppose ‘no Arthur’ is valid too.”

“No,” Gwen was still imitating a snake as she put out her hands to stop the two boys from carrying on up the hill. “ _Arthur_  is over  _there_.”

Lance and Merlin followed the direction of Gwen’s pointing finger and were slightly surprised to see that she was correct. Gwen had gone through a phase in first year where she’d seen Arthur everywhere for the first three months; well, it wasn’t actually Arthur, it was just her immediate assumption whenever she saw a tallish, blond guy in the distance. Thankfully this borderline stalkerish behaviour had stopped the minute Lance had finally kissed her when they got back after the Christmas holidays.

But sure enough, there was Arthur Pendragon casually leaning against the door of one of the pricier bars, laughing into his ridiculously expensive phone. Merlin knew it was ridiculously expensive for two reasons:

1) Gwen had told him. She’d read it on the internet.

2) There had actually been a segment on BBC news about it.

“What’s he doing here?” Merlin groaned. “Girls are going to be swarming all week. We’ll be stuck in really long queues because they’l l probably clear the pistes so he can have the whole place to himself, or something.”

“Merlin, relax,” Lance laughed as he gently nudged Gwen forward and they continued the short ascent, “Arthur’s been coming here for years with his family, they don’t shut down just because they have some royalty here. I was surprised when he wasn’t here last year.”

“You know, Lance,” Merlin shivered slightly as they trooped into the hostel, “it’s easy to forget that you went to school with him. Thankfully it doesn’t seem to have tainted you in any way.”

Lance laughed, partially at Merlin’s comment, but mainly at Gwen as she asked for their room key in halting French. “I was just a scholarship boy,” he told Merlin, “I went to school with him, but we never had a conversation outside of the classroom.”

“We’re in room twelve,” Gwen ann ounced, holding up two keys for the boys to take. “Douze, right?”

“Oui, mon amour,” Lance responded smoothly.

Gwen blushed.

Merlin gagged. “Oh, God, Please don’t tell me you’re going to be all suave and charm everyone with your perfect linguistic skills all week?”

Lance chuckled loudly as they piled into their room and dropped their bags in the middle of the floor.

“Right,” Gwen immediately grabbed both boys by the hand, “you know what time it is.”

“Seriously?” Merlin sighed, a look of vague horror streaking across his face. “We’ve been on a coach all day. I really don’t think I can face Jaegerbombs right now.”

“But it’s tradition,” Gwen waggled her eyebrows.

“We had them once, Gwen,  _once_ ,” Me rlin tried even though he knew he was fighting a losing battle. “That doesn’t make it a tradition.”

“That’s how traditions start,” Gwen grinned as she tugged them both out of the room and back into the night air once more. “Now hurry up, most people will be heading to where Arthur is.”

“And we won’t be?” Merlin asked hopefully.

“Of course not. But it means we’ll probably get a table somewhere else.”

“You’re cleverer than you look, Smith,” Merlin joked, his eyes flashing happily with mirth as Gwen stared at him in mock-horror.

“Right, Emrys.” Gwen stopped walking and reached her gloved hand down to the snow that had built up at the edge of the pavement. “You asked for it.”

Merlin took of at full pelt down the hill, laughing maniacally as he skidded slightly on the gritted road, Gwen’s snowballs occasionally finding the back of his head. Lance calling out random, yet (seemingly) perfectly pronounced French phrases for no other reason than it was hilarious.

 _This,_  Merlin thought happily,  _this is perfection._

Of course that was when he ran into the Crown Prince.

_Oh._

 

_God._

 

* * *

“When you say you ran into the Prince?” Morgause shook her head slightly.

“I literally  _ran into him_ ,” Merlin replied, ignoring Morgause’s look of distaste. “We both ended up on the floor.”

“Right.” It was clear this wasn’t really the scoop Morgause was going for. “Do continue.”

“Erm…”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Do you want me to get straight to the part about the…” Merlin trailed off and waved his hands awkwardly.

Morgause twitched ever so slightly, and Merlin thought for a split-second that she might strike him. “No, no. Please, carry on with your… _context_.”

Merlin smiled weakly. “So I had just skidded into the Prince…”

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin had never had so many people hauling him to his feet before. He couldn’t even rub at the bruise he could feel developing on his elbow because he was being restrained in a standing position, arms pinned behind his back, by at least three men.

“Ow,” Merlin hissed. “Let go of me!” He tried to turn his head to see where Gwen and Lance were, but quickly discovered it was fruitless as a sea of dark material blocked his view.

“What the  _hell_ do you think you are doing?” Arthur demanded as he was helped to his feet with far more care than Merlin had been granted.

“It was an accident,” Merlin struggled uselessly against his captors once more. “I didn’t see you.”

Arthur’s gaze roamed slowly over Merlin, who had the distinct impression he had been judged and found severely lacking in something. “Are you one of those anti-Royal protestors or something?”

“What?  _No_!” Merlin frowned as indignantly as he could manage. “I’m just here for the UA ski trip. I wasn’t looking where I was going, alright?”

“It’s true, your Royal Highness.” Merlin sagged in relief as he heard Lance speak. He’d started to have visions of being driven to some secret prison/lair in the mountains by a group of men in black to await his punishment.  _What was the penalty for mowing down the Prince of Wales, anyway?_

“Lance?” Arthur’s attention had been drawn away from Merlin as he recognised the man who’d spoken. “You know this… _boy_?”

Merlin’s eyes widened in annoyance.  _Boy!_ He opened his mouth to respond, but thankfully all treasonous commentary was halted before it could begin when Lance replied affirmatively to Arthur’s question, complete with ‘Sir’ tacked on the end. Merlin made a mental note to find wifi somewhere and check if Lance was actually using the correct terms of address – that could be another thing to gently tease him about in the future.  _Bloody plummy gits._

“Alright, let him go,” Arthur eventually waved his hand airily at the men who were still exerting vice-like grips on Merlin’s limbs. “No real harm done.”

Merlin staggered backwards to his friends, furiously swiping at his duffle coat as though that would remove any lingering reminder of bodyguard deathclaw. It was only his anger that stopped him finding the sight of a slightly windswept Prince of Wales being flanked by five sombre men in matching all-black ski jackets and salopettes amusing. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine, thanks for asking,” he managed to croak out eventually.

“Who was asking?” Arthur smirked, widening his eyes ever so slightly.

The Prince had turned away and disappeared back into the lower town with his collection of guards before Merlin could utter even a disgruntled squeak in protest.

“Did that just happen?” Gwen looked as stunned as Merlin felt. “Are you okay, Merlin?”

Merlin could feel an unwelcome stirring of humiliation just under his skin, and before he could temper his emotions every single streetlight that had been happily glowing on the hill flared for a split second before winking out with a resounding  _crack_.

“What was that?” Gwen squealed in alarm.

“Nothing,” Lance replied calmly as he put his arm around her shoulders, but Merlin noticed he was staring at him pointedly. “It was just a power surge.”

Merlin nodded slightly in silent thanks to Lance; he’d found out about Merlin’s magic soon after they met, and had taken it upon himself to protect that secret, even from Gwen.

“Let’s go get a drink.”

Merlin followed his two friends into the village centre with a sigh, putting all thoughts of Royal Prats to the back of his mind.  _What was it he’d been saying about perfection?_

**ooOOoo**

Merlin woke early the next morning, a grin on his face before he even opened his eyes to the slight chill in the air. He pushed up onto his elbows and his smile faded slowly as a dull throb radiated from his elbow down to his wrist. Unbidden images of slamming into the tarmac (via Prince Arthur’s shoulder) served to remind him that last night hadn’t quite been the relaxing first night of holiday he’d been expecting. He carefully tugged the loose fabric of his long-sleeved t-shirt up his arm and gingerly pressed a finger to the bruise-mottled skin of his arm.

“Ouch,” Gwen whispered from the other side of the room. Merlin looked over and found her looking at him sympathetically, still cocooned in her blankets.

“It’s not too bad.” The truth of his words was challenged a second later as he straightened his arm with a hiss of discomfort.

“Are you going to be okay today?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he waved her off with a smile as he stood up and stretched, carefully avoiding jostling his arm. “We’re going to march down to the rental place and pick up the skis, and then we’re going to have a brilliant day.”

“Exactly,” Gwen smiled at him indulgently; she knew how long he’d been looking forward to getting back out here. “What time is it anyway?”

“Seven-thirty. We should try to leave by eight-thirty otherwise it’ll be really late by the time we actually get on a lift.” Merlin was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with anticipation. “Do you mind if I jump in the shower first?”

“Go ahead,” Gwen replied with an awkward glance over her shoulder, “Lance is dead to the world and I don’t have the energy to move him so I can get up yet.”

“It’s going to be great,” Merlin beamed as he grabbed his toiletries and towel and headed for the shower in their ensuite. Last year they’d made the mistake of booking one of the larger dorm rooms with no private facilities because it was a bit cheaper; they’d made a pact to never speak of what they’d seen the morning after the University Ski Team had been on a bar crawl, and vowed to always book rooms with private bathrooms in the future.

He was happily whistling to himself as he reached into the cubicle to turn on the stream of water when he felt power blaze up in his fingertips. He drew his hands to his chest as if he’d been burned.  _What the hell_?

He looked carefully at his palms as the feeling retreated, turning them over and flexing his fingers a few times. His magic had never flared like that before for no reason; sure he was  _happy_  about being on holiday, but he wasn’t  _ecstatic_ , so there was no reason for rogue magic. He brushed it off as being a result of too little sleep and carried on with his morning routine.

It was only when he picked up his ski pass from the UA rep later that morning that he realised it was Tuesday. He shivered despite the ridiculous amount of layers he’d bundled himself into and somehow knew without a doubt that this Tuesday was going to a very,  _very_ bad day.

**ooOOoo**

By two-thirty, Merlin’s bruised arm was aching from planting his poles as Lance yelled instructions for the perfect turn at him from further up the piste. Even though they’d only stopped for lunch an hour ago he was well and truly ready for another break.

“I give up,” he waved his hands in surrender and waited for Gwen to glide to a stop next to him. “I want to sit down.”

“You couldn’t have said that before we came down that red,” Gwen grumbled, but he knew there was no venom behind it. “We had a nice picnic table at the top.”

“What’s up?” Lance appeared at their sides, looking every inch the perfect skier, particularly when he pulled off his helmet and ran a hand through his hair. Merlin could see Gwen practically swooning next to him.

“I need to stop for a bit,” Merlin shrugged, “but I think you two should carry on heading down to the bottom of the gondola lift. I can meet you back at the top at four-thirtyish and we’ll do the full run down like we planned.”

“We don’t have to do that, Merlin,” Lance nodded seriously. “It’s only day one, we’ve got all week to work up to that.”

“If it’s day one, Lance,” Merlin replied with a smile, “it means that part of this trip is already over and I  _really_ want to do this. I’ll just get the chair back up to the top now and wait for you. You two could do with some time on your own without the third-wheel!”

“Merlin!” Gwen scolded him and Merlin thought he might have actually upset her. “We love you, so don’t say things like that. You have never been, and  _never will be_ , a third-wheel, okay?”

“Okay, okay,” he smiled placatingly, “but please don’t worry about me right now. Go and have a good time, and I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

Gwen looked like she wanted to argue, but Lance was putting his helmet back on and smiling at her. “Gwen, he’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” she agreed slowly, “but don’t try and ski without us here, Merlin. I know you’re getting quite good, but I’d rather Lance was around to save you, just in case.”

“Trust me,” Merlin patted her on the arm with a laugh. “All I want to do is sit down and drink an overpriced hot chocolate for a while. I promise I’ll wait until Lance gets back before throwing myself into any dangerous situations.”

It took a few more minutes, but eventually Lance managed to get Gwen moving again, and Merlin had to laugh at how she could never seem to let go of her maternal instinct when it came to her friends.

He skied slowly to the bottom of the Côte Brune chair and was pleased to see that the four-person lift didn’t even have a queue. Although, considering this was usually one of the busiest parts of the resort he was a little surprised. He shuffled along slowly to the gates, frowning slightly when he thought he detected a faint tingle of magic in his fingers again.

“Get a grip, Emrys,” he muttered to himself as he went through the gate and waited patiently for the slow-moving chair to come round behind him. He jerked in surprise as he heard a loud cheer, followed by the distinct sound of sharpened skis coming to a halt on snow behind him. Forgetting he had long skis attached to his feet he almost lost his balance as he turned to see what was going on.

Three things then happened in such quick succession that Merlin wasn’t entirely sure what happened first, but in the space of a few seconds a lunatic skier jumped onto the other end of the arriving chair, the chair bumped Merlin painfully in the back of the knees, and the lift attendant let out a tirade of angry French.

“Argh,” Merlin spluttered as he fell gracelessly onto the chair and nearly lost a finger as the other occupant brought the safety bar down without checking to see if Merlin was ready. “What are you  _doing_?”

Merlin’s question was ignored; the other skier was too busy looking back over his shoulder as they ascended, yelling at a disgruntled looking man waiting for the next chair. “Too bad, Leon!”

Merlin was quick to note his companion was also ignoring the death glare he was receiving from the lift attendant – Merlin really hoped he didn’t stop the lift just to spite them. The man next to him finally turned to face uphill, pulling at his goggles and pushing them up to sit on his helmet as he brushed snow from his deep red jacket.

“Prat,” Merlin muttered as he turned away and looked down onto the pistes below, wishing for all the world that he was still with Gwen and Lance.

“What did you say?”

 

Merlin really shouldn’t have been surprised; he had terrible luck, it was bloody  _Tuesday_ , and his magic had been going mad all morning. So it was more with a sense of trepidation that Merlin turned slowly and found himself face to face with the Prince of Wales for the second time in less than twenty-four hours.

* * *

Morgause was looking more interested now. “So you had no idea that you’d end up sharing a lift with Prince Arthur?”

“Obviously not.” Merlin tried to stop himself from seeking out the loose thread on his jumper again. “I was as surprised as he was.”

Morgause leaned back slightly, as if she was calculating something carefully. “Taking into account what happened next, are you glad that your paths crossed when they did?”

Merlin answered immediately and without hesitation, because despite where the events of that day had eventually taken him ( _and Arthur)_ , despite the cruel words and accusations that still rubbed raw in his heart, despite the fact that the trust they’d built was now in tatters, he knew he wouldn’t trade any of it for a life where he’d lost Arthur before he knew him.

 

“Yes. Yes, I am.”


	4. Chapter 4

“You’re a very brave man, Merlin,” Morgause was still studying him carefully as she spoke. “Not many people would do what you did.”

“Arthur would,” Merlin answered without thinking. He stilled as soon as he realised the words had left his mouth. Fighting the urge to cover his mouth he moulded his expression into his best impression of nonchalance.

“Quite.”

* * *

“ _You_!” Arthur was wearing the same exasperated expression as the night before. “Again!  _How?_ ”

“You’re quite monosyllabic for a future figurehead, aren’t you?”  _Ha!_ Merlin was pleased to see that he had a better grip on his faculties this time round.

Arthur’s eyes widened in shocked annoyance, “You can’t speak to me like that!”

“Why not?” Merlin challenged, hoping his irritation wasn’t being overshadowed by the fact he was no squinting into the bright alpine sunlight.

“I’m the Prince of Wales,” Arthur announced pompously, as though Merlin should find this a perfectly acceptable reason.

Merlin, suffice to say, did  _not_  find this an acceptable reason at all. “Doesn’t stop you also being a prat.”

“Why y-“ Arthur cut his own growl off as he lunged awkwardly towards Merlin, ski poles effectively barring him from making much headway across the two seats between him and his target.

“Your Highness! Arthur!” The shout came from behind them and Merlin assumed it was the man who’d been the butt of Arthur’s gloating at the lift.

“I’m fine, Leon,” Arthur turned his head to call to the chair behind him. “Nothing to worry about.”

Merlin couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips.

“ _You_ ,” Arthur turned his attention to his fellow student once more, “on the other hand, have a  _lot_  to worry about.”

“Oh really?” Merlin smirked cockily. “And why’s that?”

“Because when we get to the top of this lift my bodyguard isn’t going to be there for a good twenty seconds. That means he can’t stop me from taking a ski pole and-“

Merlin didn’t process the end of that threat. His attention was drawn to the piste below them, every single nerve in his body feeling as though they were on fire, burning hot as magic thrummed through him. It must have been instinctive, because even though he rolled the events of this split-second through his mind a million times in the following days he would never work out how he had done it.

As time slowed to almost a standstill around him, Merlin suddenly saw everything, heard everything,  _felt_ everything with complete clarity; the faint whistle of the gentle breeze spinning through the trees, the swish of snow flying into the air, his heartbeat pounding in his chest. But most importantly, he heard the crack of a gunshot and saw a roaring sphere of gold arcing through the air. With a rapidly dawning sense of dread Merlin watche d helplessly as the bullet advanced towards Arthur’s chest.

_Oh God, Oh God, Oh. My. God. No, no, no, nononononono._

Merlin kept up his internal mantra as he sent a pulse of gold towards his boots to unclip them from the bindings that attached him to his skis. The chair rocked dangerously as he battled to swing it out of the way somehow, whilst also trying to alter the bullet’s course; he cursed as he felt his magic being repelled by the deadly shard still forcing its way towards the Prince.

_Magic_ his mind screamed at him,  _someone else is using magic._ Everything suddenly made sense; the tingling of magic he’d felt earlier the night before, and again earlier that day – his magic must have been aware that something was very wrong. He knew, soul deep, that he couldn’t let that bullet hit Arthur, regardless of his striking ability to ruin Merlin’s day or ho w much of a bloody  _prat_  he was.

Before he was fully aware of what he was doing, he was drawing his thin frame up into a crouching position, precariously tilting over the back of the chair for a heart-wrenching moment as he folded his feet under himself and raised onto the balls of his feet. He steadied himself momentarily before throwing his body towards Arthur, whose face was still scrunched mid-word in a scowl, and pushing the Prince down so he was now leaning awkwardly over the safety bar with Merlin practically lying on his back.

Merlin’s hold over time snapped away from him like a fragile elastic band and everything was suddenly moving again.

A howl of pain tore from his chest as the blazing bullet grazed over his left arm and skimmed his hunched shoulder. His breath was torn from him as the momentum sent him pressing further down into the body beneath him, which of course was the moment Arthur instinctively reacted against Merlin’s assault, roughly pushing him away.

Arthur looked stupefied, and a pain-addled Merlin could do nothing but clutch weakly at his left arm, tears filling his eyes without his permission.

“ _Christ!_  Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Arthur was alternating between running his hands through his hair, looking around wildly and reaching abortively towards Merlin. “What?”

“Arthur! ARTHUR!” Leon’s shout was loud enough for Merlin to hear over the roaring in his ears. “ARTHUR!”

“I’m fine. I’m fine!” Arthur called back frantically, his eyes not leaving Merlin’s. “He’s been shot! Leon!”

Merlin had no idea what was happening on the ground beneath him. Would the magic-user try again? “Get. Down,” he hissed through his teeth as his arms began to shake .

“ _Fu-“_  Arthur was cut off again as the lift ground to a halt. He turned to face Leon once more and Merlin could see the fear etched on his face. “Leon! Get us out of here! NOW!”

Merlin couldn’t find the strength to protest as Arthur kicked off his skis haphazardly. He watched in stunned silence as the Prince of Wales completed a similar set of movements to Merlin’s own only moments earlier; in under a second Arthur was standing on the seat of the chair as it wobbled perilously, his right arm bracing himself on the frame as he took a step forward before lowering himself carefully so he was sitting next to Merlin.

“Let me see,” Arthur commanded, and there was no hint of gentleness in his voice as he moved his hand towards where Merlin was clutching his wound. The Prince’s hands, however, told a different story as he carefully removed Merlin’s fingers from where they were curled protectively around his arm.

Merlin couldn’t be sure how long Arthur’s ministrations lasted; a combination of the overwhelming burn of the injury and the amount of energy he’d expended trying to stop the bullet had left him sprawled awkwardly across the chair. Eventually he realised that Arthur was speaking softly to him.

“I think you actually just saved my life,” Arthur looked as astonished to be actually saying those words in real life as Merlin felt hearing them.

“You seem,” Merlin huffed out with effort. “Surprised.”

Merlin was sure the corner of Arthur’s mouth twitched slightly. As though under normal circumstances he might actually have smiled. “What’s your name?”

“Merlin.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Arthur’s amused expression had been replaced w ith something akin to horror. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“Not. Even, Alittlebit,” Merlin scrunched his face up as a wave of pain washed over him.

“LEON!” Arthur roared and Merlin would have jumped in fright had he had the energy. “We need to get Merlin down. NOW!” There was a beat and Merlin assumed Leon had replied. “Yeah, well I don’t care if they’re not sure it’s secure. He’s been shot. Get this fucking lift moving again.”

“Princes shouldn’t swear,” Merlin whispered, and this did earn him a small smile from Arthur.

“I think, under the circumstances, I’m allowed.” Arthur bit his lip and gestured at Merlin’s arm. “I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s okay,” Merlin replied, inexplicably feeling that it was suddenly very necessary to give Arthur some reassurance. “Just talk t o me.”

“Merlin?”

Merlin wasn’t sure why Arthur was questioning his name.

“Merlin!”

Merlin made a noise of exasperation. At least he thought he had.

“Merlin! LEON! Leon, something’s wrong! LEON! MERLIN!”

 

The darkness that enveloped Merlin was neither welcome nor reassuring. He felt only coldness, and then….nothing.

* * *

Morgause had the grace to look a little impressed with Merlin’s story (even if he had adapted it to edit the magic out). “You have no recollection of being taken from the lift to the hospital?”

“I don’t remember anything,” Merlin shook his head, resisting the urge to run his fingers over the place he knew his scar lurked beneath his clothes.

“But you’ve seen the news footage of the rescue operation?”

“Hasn’t everyone?” Merlin shrugged, feeling his cheeks beginning to heat. He wasn’t being offhand, it was true; the camera crews had been all over the resort before they’d managed to get the lift moving again and extract Merlin and Arthur from where they were stranded. The video of the shooter, Valiant Käärme, being led away by a collection of men in black (incidentally, never to be seen again in public) as Merlin was loaded into an unmarked four-wheel drive with Arthur hurriedly clambering in next to him was wheeled out by every channel whenever Arthur was in the news.

“The media was quick to note that Arthur travelled with you to the hospital,” Morgause continued. “Were you surprised to see him when you awoke?”

“Very,” Merlin replied honestly, after all, it  _was_  the truth.

“Tell me about that.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

“I woke up later that day, and everything was fine,” Merlin found himself shrugging again. Feigning indifference about the past two years of his life was becoming easier every day, but he reminded himself silently that he needed to keep his guard up around Morgause; he already knew how sneaky she could be.

“That was when you met King Uther for the first time, was it not?” Morgause was clearly ignoring Merlin’s attempt to brush her off.

Merlin’s gut twisted slightly. Yes, that was when he had met Arthur’s father for the first time; and he should have known from that moment that it wouldn't be wise to cross him in anyway. Merlin had learned much later on that challenging Uther on anything was an entirely pointless battle. But that was a whole different story. “Yes, it was.”

Morgause was clearly fighting the urge to roll her eyes as she gestured at Merlin to expand on his affirmative. Merlin was sure he heard Percy sigh in frustration off camera.

* * *

“Merlin! Oh my God, Merlin! Merlin?”

Merlin cracked open one eye, irritated that someone had chosen to wake him from an excellent sleep. He felt warm and comfortable, and inexplicably as if he was floating – this was entirely due to the painkillers he had been given, but at the time he wasn’t aware of that.

“Gwen?” he frowned as he took in his friend’s tear-stained face. He felt his heart constrict in his chest as a wave of possibilities crashed over him; each one worse than the last. “Oh God, what happened? Is Lance okay? Are  _you_  okay?” He pushed his bedcovers back and tried to sit up hurriedly.

Gwen’s forehead creased into a look of horror as she saw him move so quickly. “Stop, stop, stop.” She gently placed her hand on his right shoulder and carefully pushed him back into his pillows. “We’re fine, we’re both fine. Do you not remember what happened?”

Merlin noticed that he wasn’t in his bedroom in Albion, nor was he tucked up in the hostel at Meribel. “Oh,” he whispered as it became apparent that he was in what looked suspiciously like a hospital. This realisation was swiftly followed by a fuzzy replay of what had happened on the chairlift. “The Prince?”

“He’s fine,” Gwen patted his hand gently as he raised it to trail over the bandages wrapping his shoulder and left arm. “We were so worried about you. I was…we….I didn’t…”

Merlin squeezed her hand. “I’m fine, Gwen. I don’t really know what happened. It just…”

The sound of a door opening drew Merlin’s attention away from Gwen. Arthur was standing in the doorway with Lance, both wearing freakishly similar expressions of concern. Merlin briefly wondered whether they’d taken l essons in how to look appropriately emotional when they were at Eton.

“Merlin!” Lance’s face immediately brightened at the sight of his friend awake. He strode forward quickly and dropped into the chair next to Gwen. “How are you feeling?”

Merlin scrunched his face up in concentration, looking for the pain he knew should be there. “I can’t feel anything, so I guess I’m okay. I feel a bit lightheaded, but that’s about it.”

“They’ve got you on three different types of painkiller,” Arthur supplied from where he was leaning against the now closed door. He was no longer clad in his skiwear; obviously his men in black were also wardrobe assistants and had supplied him with more suitable clothes to be wearing in a hospital. “I’m not surprised you feel light-headed.”

“Are you alright?” Merlin felt he should ask, even if the Prince lo oked like the picture of health.

Arthur nodded slightly, but didn’t speak.

“They say you’ve got to stay here for a couple of days, Merlin,” Gwen explained when it was clear that the Prince wasn’t going to say anything else.

“But I feel fine!” Merlin protested. “My shoulder doesn’t even hurt.”

“Merlin,” Lance frowned pointedly at him, and that was enough to stop any tirade that was about to surface.

A knock on the door surprised everyone and Arthur moved away from it quickly as it opened. A man in a suit walked in and spoke quietly to Arthur. Even though he hadn’t been afforded a very good view of him back on the piste, Merlin but he thought this was probably Leon. Arthur was nodding silently in response to whatever he was being told. With a quick smile and a nod of his head towards Merlin, Leon disappeared once more.

“My father wishes to meet you,” Arthur announced, taking a step closer to the bed.

Merlin’s mouth dropped open in concert with Gwen’s. He remembered what Lance had said about Arthur being here with his family on the night they arrived. “Meet me?”

Arthur frowned as though he was having trouble understanding Merlin’s lack of comprehension. “Yes,” he replied slowly, “he wants to meet you.”

“Why?”

Arthur barked out a laugh. “Well you did just save my life.”

Merlin felt himself flush. This whole situation was ridiculous. He didn’t want people to make a fuss; that wasn’t why he’d thrown himself in front of Arthur. To be honest he didn’t actually know why he’d thrown himself at Arthur, other than it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Gwen, aware of her friend’s ability to lose all social skills at inconvenient moments, stepped in. “When does he want to meet him?” Her cheeks reddened slightly. “Um, Your Royal Highness?” She looked at Lance for confirmation of her use of the honorific, and he nodded minutely in reply.

“He’ll be here shortly. And, Miss Smith, please, call me Arthur.”

Merlin was sure Gwen was going to fall off the chair in surprise, and he almost giggled when she reached out her hand to grab Lance’s.

Lance, who was as aware of Gwen’s selective social awkwardness as she was of Merlin’s, squeezed her hand and turned to Arthur. “With all due respect, Arthur, perhaps it would be better to wait until Merlin has been released from here?”

“Unfortunately, Lance, I have no sway over my father’s schedule.” Merlin was sure a slight shadow flitted across Arthur’s face momentarily as he spoke, but it was replaced immediately by a smile. “I believe Merlin’s doctors have cleared him for visitors as the injury he sustained was mostly a surface-wound.”

“Merlin, is this okay with you?” Lance looked at his friend, and Merlin felt a rush of gratitude for his friend’s protectiveness. “It’s your  _gunshot wound_ , after all.”

Arthur looked a little bit miffed at Lance’s question. “I assure you my father’s visit will be nothing taxing. He simply wants to thank you.”

The door opened once more and Merlin found himself looking across the room at the King. Well, to be accurate, he was looking anywhere that  _wasn’t_  the King while the King looked at him.

“Mr Emrys,” King Uther’s voiced boomed as he smiled at Merlin. “Please, don’t get up.” He laughed at his own joke, and everyone else joined in, probably out of some sense of ingrained expectation or duty than because they actually found it funny.

Gwen and Lance stood, Lance leaning over to Merlin briefly and whispering, “It’s Your Majesty, and then Sire afterwards.”

Merlin nodded his ascent at Lance and addressed the King, “Your Majesty.”

“How are you feeling?” Uther asked, smiling at Gwen and Lance and sitting in the chair Lance had vacated.

Merlin had to shake himself slightly as he took in the incongruous sight of Uther Pendragon, King of the Commonwealth realms, wedged onto an orange plastic chair. Thankfully he wasn’t wearing a crown; that would have been a step too far for Merlin to handle at this stage.

“I feel fine, Sire.”

“Thank you, Merlin,” Uther reached forward slightly and grasped Me rlin’s right hand between his gloved fingers. “Sincerely, thank you for saving my son’s life.”

“Um, you’re welcome?” Merlin responded eventually, not quite recovered from the fact the King was effectively holding his hand. “Oh, er, you’re welcome,  _Sire._ ”

He looked over at Arthur and noticed he was looking at his father oddly; a muscle in his jaw was twitching slightly and he appeared to be gripping his elbows tightly as he folded his arms across his chest.

“I would like to honour your bravery in some way,” Uther nodded sagely as he rose to his feet. “I would be privileged if you would attend Christmas dinner with us at Sandringham this year.”

Merlin gaped. He couldn’t help the way his mouth dropped open; if this had been a cartoon his bottom jaw would have hit the ground and scuttled away. He wasn’t sure but he thought t hat everyone else in the room, bar Uther himself, was experiencing similar shock.

“Clarence House will be in touch upon your return to England.”

“Father,” Arthur began to speak but Uther held his hand up and turned once more to Merlin.

“I thank you once again, Merlin. Come, Arthur.” Uther dipped his head slightly and left the room in a flurry of expensive tailoring.

Arthur was staring at Merlin as though he had just grown an extra head. He shook himself after a few seconds and followed his father out of the room.

There was a long period of silence as the three people left in the room continued to stare at the now closed door. Gwen broke the tension by emitting a shrill shriek of what Merlin assumed was excitement, but could just as easily have been pain.

“Merlin!”

“How many drugs are they giving me?” Merlin asked, finding his voice eventually as Gwen gripped his arm. “Because I think I just hallucinated an invitation to Christmas dinner with the King.”

“That wasn’t a hallucination, my friend,” Lance, as expected, was far more composed than his girlfriend.

“I can’t spend Christmas with the King!” Merlin squeaked and looked horrified at the words he’d just spoken. “Who even says that? That’s not a sentence that should be uttered by anyone. Ever.”

“Well I don’t think he’s going to take no for an answer,” Lance looked incredibly serious and Merlin knew he was probably right. “And to be fair, Merlin, today you’ve already saved the Prince of Wales’ life,  _and_  been shot at. I think you’ve lost the right to be surprised.”

Gwen’s eyes were sparkling as she grinned at Merlin. “If you’re going to spend Christmas with the Royal family, you’re going to have to do a bit of homework. I can help! You’ll need to know who everybody is, you can’t go saying the wrong thing to the wrong person – you could start some kind of war!”

“Gwen!” Merlin cried, appalled. “I liked you better when you were worried about me. I was  _shot_ , I actually got shot.” A thought suddenly struck him and his heart plummeted into his stomach. “Oh my God.”

“Merlin, don’t be worried,” Gwen had switched to her soothing tone – the one she used when she thought Merlin was having an unnecessary breakdown; he’d first heard it in exam week when he’d lost one of his revision files – and was patting his arm again. “I promise you’ll be totally prepared. You don’t need to worry.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Gwen,” Merlin shook his head. “That's not what I’m worried about.”

Lance frowned as Merlin winced, his arm twinging as the painkillers began to wear off.

“What is it then?”

“Has anybody spoken to my mother?”

“I did,” Lance replied calmly. “A car was being sent to take her to the airport. She’ll be here in the morning.”

“Well at least I don’t have to worry about spending Christmas at Sandringham,” Merlin sighed as he lay back, exhausted once more. “My mother is going to kill me the minute she arrives.”

 

* * *

 

“How  _did_ your mother react?” Morgause asked, although it was clear she didn’t care.

“Not well,” Merlin laughed tightly, and he hoped she understood that he didn’t want to talk about his mother’s ranting and hysterical crying fit on national television.

“So, Christmas?”


	6. Chapter 6

“Christmas,” Merlin nodded, giving himself a moment to reorganise his thoughts and ensure he had control over his mouth. “I was flown back to England with my mother a few days later.”

“On a private plane, yes?”

Merlin felt his cheeks flush; being flown home in that ridiculous plane was still a source of endless amusement for Merlin’s friends. “Yes. Uth-,  _His Highness_ , thought it would be best for all involved if I avoided any lurking journalists by not flying home commercially.”

At his mention of ‘lurking journalists’ Morgause had raised one eyebrow, in a manner freakishly similar to Merlin’s godfather, Gaius. “I see.”

It really  _did_ make sense,” Merlin waved his hands, feeling as though this needed justification. “The press had already been hounding my friends and classmates in Meribel – Albion aborted the ski trip after the third day and took everyone home.”

“Did you fly with the Royal family?”

“No. They flew straight back to England the night of the… ”Merlin trailed off, searching for the right word. “ _Incident_. Even though the security team was sure it had been an isolated event they didn’t want to risk the Prince’s safety, or that of the rest of his family by remaining in the area.” Merlin aimed for sounding off-hand, when actually he’d felt a little put out that everyone had swept away immediately and left him stuck in hospital. The explanation he’d just given to Morgause was the same he’d heard from Leon just before the Royal party had left Meribel completely, only the two guards left outside Merlin’s room suggesting they’d ever been there to begin with.

“What was it like being back in Wales after everything you’d been through?”

* * *

Initially Merlin had been thrilled to be home. He was still smarting from the fact that he’d not had the wonderful holiday with his friends that he’d been looking forward to for the best part of the year, but deep down he was just happy he was still alive to enjoy his tiny bedroom in the higgledy-piggledy cottage he’d grown up in. He (secretly) enjoyed his mother’s fussing over him; constantly bringing him warm crumpets and gingerbread and mince pies and scones….and anything else she could think to whip up and cram into the oven.

But then he was dragged from sleep on his first morning to the sound of his mother shouting at someone.

Merlin propelled himself out of bed and ran down the stairs, almost tripping on the belt of the dressing gown he’d dragged from the hook behind his bedroom door. “Mum! Mum?”

Hunith was sitting at the kitchen table, glaring at the telephone, almost as if she was daring it to ring. “They won’t stop calling here, Merlin.”

“Who?” he asked as he sat next to her and warily placed a hand on top of her arm. “Is it those stupid kids from up the road making prank phonecalls again? Because I could just…” he trailed off and wiggled his fingers.

“No, Merlin!” His mother had gone as white as a sheet and was now gripping his fingers painfully between her own. “You cannot use your magic, not for anything. Someone’s bound to see eventually, especially now, and I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to you. Promise me.  _Promise me_  you won’t use magic unless you absolutely must.”

“I would,” Merlin tried to laugh, anything to lighten the tense atmosphere that had settled over the kitchen, “but you’re not letting me get a word in.”

“Merlin, this isn’t a joke,” Hunith hadn’t relaxed her hold and her eyes strayed to where she knew Merlin was bandaged under his pyjamas. “There’ve been fourteen phonecalls in the last hour – people from newspapers, and from the television. I’ve had Channel Four on twice!”

Merlin frowned and his mother glared at him slightly when he asked why.

“Don’t be stupid, Merlin. They all want to talk to you. They want interviews and quotes and photographs and – and- and-“

“Mum, it’s okay,” Merlin bobbed his head slightly so he could look into her eyes properly. “I promise they won’t find out.”

“But you used magic, to save the Prince, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Merlin agreed, “but nobody saw. I wouldn’t have used it unless I  _had_ to. I had to save him, Mum.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Hunith said gently after a long moment, releasing his hands and wrapping him in a brief hug. “I know. But please be careful.  _Please_.”

Merlin inhaled the comforting scent of honeysuckle, and tea, and warmth, and something so uniquely ‘Mum’ that it almost brought a lump to his throat. “I promise.  _I promise_.”

The phone rang and Hunith sprang from motherly concern into a tirade of colourful language in under two seconds flat. Merlin held back a grin as she yelled into the receiver, and tried to pretend he wasn’t fiercely proud.

**ooOOoo**

“Mum, this is ridiculous,” Merlin grumbled, batting her hands away as she tried to flatten his hair. “It’s six in the morning  _and_  it’s Christmas Eve. I should be in bed, preparing for a long day of eating mince pies and sugary rubbish. I should be looking forward to an evening of watching Christmas films with  _you_ , not going to some stuffy dinner at Sandringham with the bloody Royal family.”

“ _Merlin Emrys_!” Hunith barked, and her son had the good grace to look slightly abashed. “You will  _not_  speak about the Royal family in such a manner, or any other family who extends such an invitation to you.”

“But I don’t want to go,” Merlin wasn’t afraid of whining a little sometimes.

Hunith smiled warmly and cuffed his good arm. “I know. I don’t want you to go either – just think of what I’m sacrificing for you! Instead of too much sherry and  _Miracle on 34 th Street_, I’m going to be stuck with Nerys Parry and her penchant for Richard Gere films.  _Richard Gere_ , Merlin! I tell you if it wasn’t for the fact that William had invited me I wouldn’t be going to  _her ladyship’s_ at all!”

“Mum,” Merlin laughed at his mother’s expression, “you  _love_  Nerys. You’ve been friends since Will invited me to his fourth birthday party. You just need to get over the fact that she doesn’t want to talk about anything except her new conservatory.”

“She’s like a lady of the manor, the way she goes on,” Hunith waved her arms in a shockingly similar way to her son. “It’s a  _conservatory_  Merlin, not a palace. It’s been two months and it’s still all ‘ooh it’s so warm because it’s double-glazed’ and ‘look at the way the light reflects back out into the garden.”

“Mum,” Merlin looked sternly at her, “she’s only doing it because she’s sick of you going on about me being at Albion.”

“Hmm,” was Hunith’s only reply.

“Do I really have to take the chocolate Yule log?” Merlin gestured at the cake tin he was holding.

“Merlin, no child of mine will arrive at someone’s house without a gift of some kind,” Hunith glared slightly. “I know it’s not from a fancy shop in London, but it’s been good enough for you all these years.”

“I know it’s brilliant!” Merlin nodded rapidly, not wanting another row – he’d already fought to have the plastic robin removed from the top of the cake (he’d lost, and the robin was now proudly ensconced in a blanket of icing sugar ‘snow’ right on top). “I’m just not sure who to give it to when I get there.”

“I’m sure it will be obvious.“ Hunith had gone back to patting his arm as if he was being entirely ridiculous about everything. “Anyway, you can just give it your new friend, Prince Arthur.”

“Mum,” Merlin rolled his eyes, “despite what you keep telling people, and by that I mean  _Nerys_  (hmph!), the Prince of Wales is  _not_ my new best friend.”

“I’ve been saying no such things,” Hunith replied haughtily.

Merlin was saved from further argument by a soft knock on the front door. Hunith smoothed her hands over her dress, then once more over her son’s hair before opening the door.

If Merlin hadn’t been as shocked as his mother he would have laughed at the way Hunith’s eyes grew comically upon the sight of the young woman on her doorstep.

“Hello,” the woman smiled widely, and Merlin was convinced he’d never seen such a bright smile before. “You must be Merlin’s mother. I’m Morgana.”

Morgana Pendragon - or more commonly, Her Royal Highness, the Princess Royal, older sister of Arthur Pendragon and second in line to the throne. (Secretly Merlin had always thought this male favouritism was somewhat unfair - but really neither here nor there when she was standing on his doorstep) was practically beaming at his mother. Then, in what Merlin assumed was a complete lack of expected propriety, the Princess stuck out her arm and shook Hunith’s hand warmly.

“Hunith. Your Royal? Er…” Hunith trailed off and Morgana laughed delightedly.

“Just Morgana, if you wouldn’t mind,” she was still grinning as her gaze trailed past the shell-shocked woman and landed firmly on Merlin.

“Ah, Merlin.” Her eyes widened slightly in a way that reminded Merlin of her younger brother. “We meet at last.”

Morgana really was impossibly pretty, Merlin thought, as Hunith ushered her in out of the cold. In looks she was almost the complete opposite of Arthur, although it was clear that both siblings had the same propensity to smirk slightly when they looked at Merlin. But even bundled up in a deep blue duffle coat with a woollen hat pulled down over her ears she looked every inch the Queen she would probably never get to be.

“Hello,” Merlin bobbed his head in what he hoped was a respectful way, and Morgana laughed again.

“My father sent his driver to collect you. But, between us, Agravaine’s a terrible bore, and the drive to Sandy is horribly dull if you’re stuck with someone like him. He doesn’t let you get out of the car at service stations, and if you ask him to bring back a pack of fruit pastilles he always claims they haven’t got any,” Morgana was whispering conspiratorially to him as they stood in the tiny hallway and Merlin couldn’t help but immediately like her. “But this time I’ve come prepared.”

Morgana reached into a handbag that Merlin was sure cost more than his yearly tuition fees and produced a couple of sharing-size bags of sweets. Merlin’s laugh was pulled from his throat, magnified by the completely bizarre nature of the situation.

“Although,” Morgana narrowed her eyes slightly, “if you eat all the purple ones I will need to have you killed.”

Merlin laughed again, only slightly worried that she wasn’t joking.

“Are you ready to go, Merlin?” Morgana asked and as he nodded she turned to his mother. “I’m sorry to be stealing him away from you at Christmas, but once my father gets an idea into his head nobody can persuade him otherwise.”

“I’m pleased to see my son being honoured for his actions,” Hunith replied diplomatically, but Merlin wasn’t convinced she wouldn’t launch into another Nerys-attack if they tarried too much longer. Morgana did  _not_ need to hear about Nerys.

“He was very brave,” Morgana was looking at Merlin once more, and the mirthful sparkle in her expression was tempered slightly by the glaring honesty she momentarily displayed.

“I’m ready to go,” Merlin waved the cake tin, suddenly feeling awkward as the two women looked at him dotingly.

“I’ve given Merlin a cake to bring to your family for Christmas,” Hunith spoke seriously to Morgana. She was always serious about baked goods. “It’s nothing special, but I couldn’t allow him to arrive empty-handed.”

Morgana looked a little as though she wanted to hug Hunith. “I’m sure it will be wonderful. That’s very kind of you.”

“I should point out,” Hunith continued, as though she had some divine piece of wisdom to impart, “that the robin on the top is made of plastic. I’m sure anyone would realise that, it’s just that I once made a Christmas cake and Merlin tried to eat the-“

“Okay, Mum!” Merlin flung himself at his mother; his uninjured arm around thrown around her to startle her into silence. “I think we’re already running a bit late.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” she leaned away from him, tearing up. “Merry Christmas, my darling boy. I love you.”

Merlin’s throat was tight as he smiled at her. “Merry Christmas, Mum. I’ll be back in a few days, and then you’ll be wishing you had your peace and quiet back!”

Hunith looked like she might actually burst into tears at that and Merlin hugged her tightly once more. “I love you too,” he whispered, ”but we have to go.”

“Merlin, so help me, you  _will_  text me when you arrive in Norfolk,” his mother said sternly as Merlin opened the front door. He flushed bright red as Morgana snorted in a very undignified manner.

“It has been wonderful to meet you,” Morgana clasped Hunith’s hands tightly, “albeit briefly. Although I’m sure we’ll meet again in the future, and then we can have a  _proper_ chat about Merlin.”

Merlin ignored that comment. He wasn’t planning to have any long-lasting relationship with the Royal family, although already he felt like he wanted to keep Morgana forever, if only for the fact she was lovely to his mother.

“Have a safe trip,” Hunith smiled at both of them as Merlin tried to protest about the fact Morgana was disappearing down the path to the awaiting car carrying Merlin’s holdall while he held the little cake tin.

“Merlin, did it escape your notice that you recently got shot in order to save my irritating little brother’s life?” Morgana quirked her lips as they approached the car and a smartly dressed man scuttled to her side to take the bag. “Just give in to the fact that we’ve got our claws into you now and it’s unlikely you’ll ever escape. Resistance is futile, as they say.”

Merlin didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at her statement. She pushed past Agravaine to open the car door herself, elegantly sat down on the plush leather and scooted over to give Merlin room.

Hunith, illuminated in the cottage doorway, was clutching her hands to her chest, still wearing a watery smile. Merlin handed the cake tin to Agravaine, who looked at suspiciously before placing it in the boot with the holdall. Merlin raised his hand and waved at his mother before dropping into the seat next to Morgana, scooting away from the door just before Agravaine closed it firmly.

Morgana leaned over and pressed the button to open the window and Merlin tried not to sneeze as the wool of her hat brushed his nose. Morgana was waving madly at Hunith as the car began to silently glide away from the house. Merlin, noting that it was  _his_ mother they were actually leaving behind, twisted awkwardly and waved too until Hunith had disappeared behind the brow of the hill.

Morgana raised the window and daintily retreated to her side of the car. “So, Merlin,” she was still smiling, although this time there was a slight edge to her voice, “tell me how you managed the impossible?”

* * *

Merlin mentally congratulated on stopping himself from mentioning what Morgana had asked him as they drove away from his mother’s house.

“What did you two talk about?” Morgause looked a little hopeful again.

“Sweets, mainly,” Merlin nodded seriously. “The Princess Royal is very keen on sweets.”

Morgause was once more looking at him as if she wanted to throttle him, and was only restraining herself because there were witnesses. “It’s a five hour journey from Ealdor to Sandringham, Merlin. How did you occupy your time?”

Merlin sighed at not being let off the hook. “Princess Morgana took it upon herself to ensure I knew who would be attending the Christmas celebrations. Gwen had given me the general background on the guests, but the Princess ensured I knew everything I needed to know.”

“That sounds very interesting, Merlin. Do tell.”

Merlin sighed. He needed to keep his mouth shut.


	7. Chapter 7

Merlin pinched the bridge of his nose and shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. “Can I have some water, please?” He didn’t really want any water; he just felt the need to get away from Morgause, regroup with Gwen and Lance, and then, preferably, make a run for it.

“Of course.” Morgause turned to Percy. “Keep rolling, this will make a nice casual filler shot.” She reached forward and unscrewed the cap from some bottled water and poured it into an awaiting glass.

Merlin silently chided himself for his mistake; he’d been so focused on what he was saying he hadn’t noticed the refreshments on the table. He was going to have to come up with a better excuse if he wanted to escape for a while.

“Here you go,” Morgause held the glass out to him with another one of those cold smiles. “You’re doing fine. Tell us about Christmas at Sandringham and then we can stop.”

“Really?” Merlin tried to keep the relief he was feeling out of his voice.

“Well, not  _stop_ completely.” Morgause smirked slightly. “I meant we could have a five-minute break, before we move on to…” she trailed off and look down at the prompt list that was lying on the carpet, obscured from the camera’s view by a chair leg. “Ah yes, the Princess Royal’s New Year’s Eve party, Arthur’s regrettable transgressions in Paris, the rest of Lent Term, particularly your thoughts on the highly-publicised relationship Arthur had with Sophia Tirmor, and so on…”

Merlin coughed as he choked slightly on the water in surprise, his mind was tripping over itself as he began to realise just how much groundwork Morgause’s researchers had done;  _God, how **thorough**  had they been?_

Morgause continued to smile at hi m as he recovered. “As you can see,” she took the glass back off him and placed it carefully on the table, “we’re really quite well-prepared.”

“I can see that,” Merlin’s voice was strained.

“We’ve got a lot to get through and not actually a huge amount of time,” Percy noted.

“So if we could just get you back to Sandringham, Merlin?” Morgause leaned forward and stared frostily at him, “You were travelling with the Princess Royal…”

* * *

Morgana stared at him for a long moment, her eyes flickering quickly over his face as she awaited his answer. The police and the Royal security team had taken his story of seeing the gun and instinctively shielding Arthur without much questioning; clearly they were all just relieved that the Prince was unharmed. Morgana, however, was obviously not going to let him off that easy.

“Can I have a fruit pastille?” Merlin spluttered out eventually, hoping his crafty misdirection would keep Morgana from further questioning him about the incident.

Morgana’s eyebrows knitted together, and once more Merlin noticed more than a slight similarity between the Pendragon siblings. “ _Merlin_ ,” she smiled at him suddenly, giving the impression she’d just discovered a great big secret, “am I to think that you’ve told a little fib about what actually happened in France?”

Merlin aimed for indifference, but he could feel his eyebrows trying to climb under his fringe; they were clearly ashamed to be a part of this.  _Why didn’t you just tell her the same story you told everybody else? What is_ **wrong** _with you? Cleary you actually are an idiot. Oh God, Merlin, she’s still looking at you. Stop being such a-_

“Merlin, are you alright?” Morgana’s face had morphed from amused to genuinely concerned.

“Shoulder hurts,” is what his brain spat out eventually.

Morgana momentarily looked as though she didn’t believe him, but she didn’t push the issue any further; Merlin felt this wouldn’t be the end of it though. “I’m not surprised,” she sighed eventually. “Arthur  _did_ tell Uther that maybe we shouldn’t be forcing you to spend five hours in a car so soon after being h ospitalised.”

“He did?” Merlin was confused. Yes, he’d saved the Prince’s life, but for some reason he didn’t feel as though Arthur would stop being such a prat to him, regardless of said life-saving. He couldn’t honestly believe that anybody who spent  _four hundred pounds_  a month on his hair (another fact courtesy of Gwen’s ‘exorbitantly long list of useless Arthur knowledge’) would worry about anyone other than himself, not really.

“Of course he did,” Morgana frowned slightly again. “You did just save his life; he is actually grateful for that. However, when he told  _me_  his reasoning he may have added that you also shouldn’t be trusted around the priceless heirlooms at Sandy, considering you broke his phone when you landed on him.”

“I broke his  _phone_?” Merlin gawped. “But that phone’s worth-“

Mo rgana waved her hand airily. “I wouldn’t worry about it. He was spending far too much time on it anyway. All of his calls have to be screened, and his security detail was getting sick of listening in to his banal conversations all day. Though he never seemed to have it with him when  _I_ called. You never know, he might actually be sociable this Christmas if it’s not permanently attached to his ear. Uther will have an absolute _episode_  if Arthur spends the whole week sulking in his room  _again_.”

“Why do you call him Uther?” Merlin asked, before realising this was perhaps a presumptuous question to pose to a Princess, regardless of how nice and  _normal_ she seemed to be. “I mean-“

Morgana paused for a long moment. “Sometimes you need to look beyond a title. Define what’s really there instead,” she replied eventually.

“That’s…cryptic ,” Merlin shrugged, scratching his head slightly.

Morgana laughed delightedly. “I’m sure you’ll understand soon enough, Merlin; titles in themselves are entirely worthless.” She gave him one last pointed look before reaching down to retrieve her handbag. “Now, even  _I_ don’t think fruit pastilles at six-thirty in the morning are a great idea, so perhaps this will be an acceptable substitute.”

Merlin grinned as he opened the paper bag Morgana had offered him; inside was a huge, flaky croissant and a bottle of orange juice. “Brilliant. Where did this come from?”

“Would you believe me if I told you that the orange juice comes from the old family place in Seville, and the pastry was couriered from a rather delicious little patisserie in Cardiff to my hotel room this morning?”

“Probably,” Merlin laughed.

“Excellent,” Morgana beamed as she retrieved a second bag of goodies for herself. “I like you Merlin.”

Merlin flushed under her gaze and busied himself with opening his bottle of orange, at a complete loss of how to respond.

Morgana giggled; clearly his embarrassed silence was exactly what she had been aiming for. “So I suppose I should brief you on who is going to be there. After all, the best method of attack is defence.”

Merlin latched onto one word. “Attack?”

“Don’t look so worried, Merlin,” Morgana grinned as she leaned back into her seat. “I’ll make sure you know  _exactly_  what you’re about to face.”

**ooOOoo**

“Okay, let me try again without the promt,” Merlin popped another sweet into his mouth as he handed Morgana the notes he had made. “Right, so the Earl of Wessex is your Uncle, Tristan de Bois. He was your mother’s brother and he just got married for the third time-“

“Fourth,” Morgana corrected. “ _Fourth_  time.”

“Fourth time. To Helen Cooper, who is that singer that Nerys in our village is obsessed with,” Merlin was gesturing wildly as he tried to remember the facts. “Except I can’t call her Helen Cooper, because she’s  _Lady_ Helen now, and I’m never to ask her to sing or the King will lock me up in the Tower and advertise me as a visitor attraction ”

“Perfect,” Morgana grabbed a handful of chocolate buttons, “and what are Uncle T’s newest stepdaughters called?”

“Um,” Merlin trailed off. “Lady Vivian and Lady Mithian. Twins, seventeen, and, according to you, inherently evil and not to be trusted. Which one’s in love with Arthur again?”

“Vivian,” Morgana rolled her eyes. “She’ll keep telling you how much she  _adores_  him. Just remember that she also  _adores_ shopping and spending Uncle Tristan’s money. Last year, when we had to all be there for the opening of the refurbished Pendragon Swan Sanctuary – don’t laugh Merlin, all the swans belong to my father and are trained to attack anyone who mocks them – anyway, Vivian told me she  _just adores_ the fact that we were so interested in saving albino ducks.”

Merlin nearly spat out his Rolo he was laughing so hard.

Morgana tried to keep a straight face. “Just remember there is nothing Vivian adores more than herself.”

“Okay, so Vivian’s in love with Arthur. Which means Mithian is the one who has a habit of ordering people about,  _and_  she defaced some priceless desk in Buckingham Palace but scrawled your name instead of hers in the hope your father would go insane and disinherit you?”

“Exactly.”

“Why would she do that?” Merlin quirked an eyebrow.

“I think she thought if she got me out of the way she’d somehow get the title of Princess. But really Merlin that’s not the point.”

“What  _is_  the point?”

“She claimed I’d sneaked into the Palace dressed as an old woman, Merlin.  _That_ is the point.”

“So, Crazy Mithian?”

“Correct.”

Merlin was really starting to worry about the group of people he was being forced to spend time with. On top of the Earl’s family, Morgana had also brie fed him on Uther’s cousin, Geoffrey, Lord Monmouth ( _dull_ ) and  _his_ wife, Lady Catrina ( _complete troll!_ ). Apparently they were arriving with their niece, Lady Elena of Astolat ( ** _Love_** _her, though.)_.

“And finally there’s Gwaine, who is now the Duke of Orkney, right?” Merlin smiled as Morgana nodded.

“All I know is that his father and Uther fell out years ago, but since Lot died Uther’s reached out to Gwaine; he says it’s for reconciliation,  _I_ think its because the Orkney lot have a really nice house in rural Italy and the Pendragons only have a tiny flat in Rome – Uther hates Rome.”

“Oh, just a tiny flat in  _Rome_ ,” Merlin rolled his eyes. “Morgana, I’ve barely been to  _Cardiff_.”

“I’m sure we can fix that,” Morgana laughed, then winked lasciviously. “ _Oh_ , and Gwaine’s also really quite hot! Oh loo k, we’re nearly there.”

Merlin’s heart dropped into his stomach as the car pulled off the road and, after a brief stop at a security checkpoint, arrived in front of a house that Merlin had only ever seen on the news. His eyes widened as he took in the sprawling façade. “Bloody hell,” he breathed as Agravaine came round to open the door for Morgana.

“Bloody hell, indeed,” Morgana squeezed his hand quickly with a grin and stepped out of the car.

Merlin followed a second later and saw that Arthur was leaning lazily against, what Merlin assumed, was the ‘front’ door. Although there seemed to be quite a lot of doors dotted around, and did places like this  _have_ front doors anyway?

“Look who  _finally_  decided to grace us with her presence,” Arthur smirked as Morgana approached him. “Did you seriously have to disappear off to Wales for the night? You left me with  _them_.”

Mo rgana rolled her eyes as she allowed Arthur to kiss her cheek. “Someone had to go and pick up Merlin.”

Arthur turned slightly, seemingly having forgotten that Morgana had brought someone back with her. “Merlin,” was all he said as he nodded. “Did you have a good journey?”

“Yes, thank you,” Merlin remembered his mother’s warning to say ‘yes’ and not ‘yeah’.

“And how is your-?” Arthur gestured vaguely towards Merlin’s arm.

“Oh,” Merlin unconsciously ran his fingers over his shirt. “It’s fine.”

Morgana laughed heartily. “Oh I can’t wait until you two have to sit next to each other at supper later. The conversation is just going to  _flow.”_

Arthur glared at his sister. “Yes, well you get the pleasure of Vivan and Mithian; one on each side.”

Merlin stifled a chuckle as Morgana’s face fell. “What?” she demanded. “I thought I was sitting next to Gwaine.”

“Too bad,” Arthur shrugged. “Father thinks you need to make more of an effort with the girls.” Arthur seemed to suddenly remember that Merlin was also standing there. “Oh, perhaps…erm…Morgana, I think we should conclude this discussion.”

“It’s alright, Arthur,” Morgana nudged Merlin. “I’ve told Merlin  _everything_  he needs to know about our little party.”

“It’s been very informative,” Merlin grinned.

Arthur looked worriedly between his sister and Merlin. “Oh God, has she been spouting her stories to you already?”

“Don’t worry, Arthur,” Morgana rolled her eyes. “I left you out of it. He can find out all  _your_  little secrets himself; although I did tell him that you were expecting him to break all the antiques.”

“Morgana!” Arthur spluttered.

Morgana’s giggle echoed around the courtyard. “Just get his luggage, Arthur. Oh, and Merlin?”

“Yes, Morgana?” Merlin asked, worrying slightly as she smirked at him

“Text your mother.”

* * *

“So the King was not there to greet you?” Morgause asked pointedly. “Even though he had extended the invitation.”

“No,” Merlin shook his head. “King Uther was out on a shoot with the other guests. Arthur had stayed behind to greet Morgana.”

“And you met them all at supper?”

“Well, there were drinks in the drawing room before that. I didn’t even realise people did that.”

Morgause simply sighed.


	8. Chapter 8

“So Prince Arthur was perfectly amicable upon your arrival?” Morgause tilted her head to the side.

“Yes.”

“There were some reports at the time, from apparent sources close to the Royal family, that Prince Arthur was not particularly easy to get on with during that Christmas period. Some even suggested that he took umbrage to your inclusion in the Christmas celebrations as no ‘outsider’ had ever been invited to the private house for such an occasion.”

“There isn’t any truth to the rumour.”  _Ah, the stock phrase that had been drilled into his head by the advisors at Clarence House. The one that actually meant ‘there is so much truth to that rumour I can’t believe anyone would actually believe us when we say otherwise.’_

“Really?” Morgause’s stare intensified. “Shortly after your v isit, there was a comment from your friend, Gwen Smith, that suggested you had not enjoyed your time at Sandringham, was there not? I believe she referred to the Prince as ‘a Royal arse.””

Merlin tensed and thought back to how they’d dealt with this the first time round. “Gwen was caught off-guard when that comment was made. I had arrived back at Albion and was upset about something that had happened in my personal life – Gwen incorrectly interpreted the reasons behind my upset. The journalist who published the story had no right to take Gwen’s words and twist them into the ‘proof’ for a fabricated story. Those words were taken from a personal conversation that took place on  _private_  University property, and were not meant for the rest of the world.”

Morgause looked subtly impressed at Merlin’s response. “Indeed. So the Prince was a genial host during the three days you spent at Sandrin gham?”

“Yes.”  _No._

“And there is no truth to the report of the Prince leaving you stranded in Hunstanton on Boxing Day?”

“Of course not,” Merlin forced a laugh. “Prince Arthur wouldn’t do something like that.”  _He would. He **did**_ **.**

“What was your first impression of the other guests?”

“Everyone was very friendly,” Merlin trailed off awkwardly and unconsciously tugged on the knot of his tie. “I really enjoyed meeting them.”

Morgause bit her lip and Merlin was sure she was holding back a laugh.

* * *

Merlin followed Arthur into the house, unable to stop himself from staring stupidly at his surroundings. He’d never seen so much wealth contained in one entrance hall before and it stopped him in his tracks.  _What the hell are you doing here, Emrys?_

Arthur didn’t seem to notice that Merlin was no longer following him as he strode down the panelled gallery to a sweeping staircase, the slightly-ratty holdall he was carrying looking rather out of place in such illustrious surroundings; somewhat like the owner. Merlin shook himself and hurried after the Prince, catching up with him just as he began to ascend.

“You should feel privileged, really,” Arthur was saying, and Merlin was sure that he’d missed the beginning of this ‘conversation’. “Father doesn’t usually allow non-familial guests to remain in this wing. Yet, for some reason he’s taken q uite a shine to you.”

“Can’t see why,” Merlin rolled his eyes.

“Indeed,” Arthur pursed his lips slightly, but didn’t look at his companion. “He seems to think you would appreciate staying closer to the family rather than in the guest wing with the Duke of Orkney and the Earl of Wessex’s family.”

“But the Earl of Wessex is your uncle isn’t he?” Merlin frowned as he realised Arthur’s explanation didn’t make sense. “So shouldn’t he be staying here?”

Arthur’s frown deepened. “The Earl is my mother’s brother, but it does not mean my father approves of certain lifestyle choices. He also believes Lady Helen and her daughters would be more comfortable in the more spacious guest chambers. He is correct, of course.”

“Right,” Merlin nodded, trying not to laugh at the slight note of relief that ha d entered Arthur’s tone.  _And I bet you’re terribly upset about being locked away from Lady Vivian, aren’t you Arthur?_

Arthur looked like he wanted to challenge Merlin’s assent, but simply quirked an eyebrow as they stopped outside a large, panelled door. Arthur pushed the door open and Merlin’s eyes widened as his eyes swept around the room. Paintings older than the house itself hung on the walls, and a large, ornate fireplace faced the largest bed Merlin had ever seen. The enormous bay window afforded him views of the Estate, the late-morning sunshine reflecting off a lake in the distance.

Merlin started as he realised that Arthur was watching him carefully, as though calculating and filing away all reactions; for what later purpose Merlin wasn’t sure. “This is…”

“Morgana will want to pour tea down our throats as soon as possible, so I suggest you sort yourse lf out as quickly as necessary,” Arthur gestured around the room. “Someone will come to find you shortly.”

“Thank you,” Merlin replied as Arthur headed for the door. He reached up with his good hand to begin awkwardly shrugging his coat off.

Arthur stopped where he was in the open doorway and looked for a split-second as if he might offer to help. But he remained silent, and with a small nod he was gone. Merlin sighed as he struggled with his coat and tried not to worry about the fact Queen Victoria was staring at him knowingly from above the fireplace.

 

**ooOOoo**

“Merlin!” Morgana beamed and immediately rose to her feet as Merlin followed an almost-silent man named George into the parlour. “Thank you, George. That will be all.”

George bowed his head reverently and stealthily slipped back out into the main house. Merlin stood in the middle of the room, tugging on his shirt awkwardly as Morgana waited for the door to close.

“Watch out for George,” Morgana grinned, gesturing for Merlin to take an armchair opposite her. “He’ll sneak up on you and give you a heart attack if you’re not prepared. Oh, and whatever you do, don’t agree to him serving you breakfast in your room. Arthur can’t stand him so always makes sure he’s assigned to me when we’re here.”

“That’s nice of him.” Merlin rolled his eyes as Morgana made her distaste clear.

“Tea?”

“Yes, please.” Merlin eyed the delicate tea set warily. “Although, are you sure you shouldn’t give me a  _mug_ or something?”

“Don’t be silly, Merlin,” Morgana poured expertly from the pot and slid the cup and saucer towards her guest. “I thought breakfast tea would be a bit nicer than Earl Grey after all the sugar in the car. Milk?”

“Just a little, please.“ Merlin gratefully (and cautiously) took a sip as Morgana carefully settled back into her chair.

“So,” she arched her eyebrows, “how ridiculous does all this seem to you?” She gestured at the room with a slight tilt of her head.

“I can’t believe you actually live in a place like this,” Merlin replied, his eyes taking in the décor of the room; it was as luxurious as his bedroom, but much lighter. “I think you could fit most of my house just into th is room.”

“I liked your house,” Morgana frowned slightly. “It seemed cosy.”

“And by cosy you mean tiny,” Merlin laughed.

“No,” Morgana looked thoughtful, “I mean cosy. It seemed lived in. Loved.”

“It is,” Merlin smiled warmly thinking about how much of his life had been spent in the cottage. “Until I went to Albion I’d never know anything different. Mum moved to Ealdor just before I was born, when my-“ he caught himself before he added  _before my father left, never to be seen again._ He recovered quickly. “Anyway, that’s not important. But we’ve always been happy there, just the two of us.”

Merlin could see that Morgana was itching to ask further questions, but the soft look on her face suggested that she wouldn’t ask for more information than he was willing to volunteer. “It sounds perfect.”

The door to the parlour opened once more and Arthur sauntered in. “Is that proper tea?” he asked as he looked at the teapot warily. “Or that funny green concoction you claim is tea, but is actually just pond water?”

“Merlin,” Morgana shot Merlin a strained smile, “you’ll have to forgive my brother’s obnoxious indifference to culture. He’s quite the basic- Neanderthal at times.”

Merlin snorted unceremoniously into his cup and Arthur shot him a glare as he sat down next to his sister. Morgana poured him a cup quickly, splashed some milk in and shoved it into his hands. “Here.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Charming. Thank you.”

“Is Uther back yet?” Morgana asked as she eyed a plate of mini scones.

“No.” Arthur shook his head. “They only just left before you a rrived, so I don’t expect them to return until it’s almost time for drinks. Geoffrey and Catrina were going to meet them out by the lake and walk back.”

“What about Elena?” Morgana asked, and Merlin was quick to note the cautiousness in her tone.

“I don’t know,” Arthur replied tightly. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if she arrives before them.”

“Is Uther still suggesting that you…?” Morgana trailed off at Arthur’s glare. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Merlin didn’t quite know where to look. It was clear he was missing something quite important when it came to Elena, but he didn’t remember Morgana saying anything negative about her when they were chatting in the car.

“Merlin,” Arthur grumbled eventually, “you don’t actually need to exert such a  _deathgrip_ on that poor teacup.”

Merlin, surprised at being addressed, almost dropped said teacup and looked up sheepishly as Arthur sighed.

“I apologise,” the Prince huffed. “It’s clearly safer for you to throttle the china. Please continue.”

“Arthur,” Morgana shot warningly. She turned to Merlin. “Ignore him. Now, do you have a suit for dinner this evening? And for tomorrow?”

Merlin thought of the suit he’d folded into his holdall; he’d only worn it once, on the day of his interview at Albion and hated the way it made him feel awkward. “Just the one. And it might need a bit of an iron.”

“An  _iron_?” Arthur looked horrified. “For a suit?”

Morgana slapped her brother on the arm. “Don’t worry, Merlin. I wouldn’t bring it up; it’s just that Uther’s a bit  _particular_ about certain thing s. Don’t worry, I’m sure Arthur can sort something out for you.”

“I can?” Arthur was wilting slightly under the stern look Morgana was shooting at him.

“You can,” she nodded. “Remember, Merlin saved your life. Father will expect you to attend to him while he is here.”

“Attend to…”Arthur trailed off looking gobsmacked.

“Really, it’s not a problem,” Merlin shook his head. “If you point me in the direction of an iron I can sort it out. Really. I’m actually quite good at ironing.”

“Merlin you are our  _guest_ ,” Morgana’s stern gaze switched from one boy to the other.

“It’s fine,” Arthur spoke up. “I’m sure we can find something to fit you. Although, Morgana?”

“Yes?”

“Wouldn’t it be better if you sorted this out. You’re, you know,  _better_  at this sort of thing,” Arthur tried diplomatically. Clearly he just wanted to get out of this situation.

“I’d love to,” Morgana smiled, “but I’ve got some errands to run this afternoon. But, I suppose there  _is_  an alternative”

“Which is?” Arthur asked, and Merlin looked questioningly at her too.

“I could get Vivian to come and look after Merlin.”

Arthur’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline and his lips curled in disgust. “Not a chance, Morgana. I’m not letting that  _witch_  near Merlin.”

Morgana looked surprised at the strength of his outburst, though not as surprised as Merlin.

“I mean,” Arthur had gone slightly pink, “even  _he_  doesn’t deserve that.”

Merlin rolled his eyes once more, but avoided meeting Morgana’s gleeful glance towards him.

“Well that’s sorted then,” Morgana stood, dusted off her dress and smiled at the two boys. “I’ll see you both for drinks at six.”

With that Morgana turned on her heel and sashayed out of the room leaving Merlin and Arthur in an awkward silence.

“Right.” Merlin broke first.

“Right.”

 

**ooOOoo**

“Just stop fidgeting,” Arthur groused as he crossed his arms and glowered at Merlin from across the room. “This would all be a lot easier if you just stopped  _resisting_.”

Merlin forced himself to stand still under Arthur’s stare. “I’m not fidgeting. The trousers are too big and I’m trying to hold them up.”

“Well it’s not my fault you’re so…”Arthur waved his hand dismissively. “String beany.”

 _“String beany_?” Merlin looked horrified. “That’s not even a real description.”

“You know what I mean. Do you ever actually eat?”

“Well I’m sorry I don’t sit down to five course meals  _every day_.”

Arthur looked amused. “You seriously think I eat five-course meals every day?”

Merlin briefly remembered a drunken Arthur scarfing down that burger back in Albion and realised there might be a slight flaw in his assessment of Arthur’s life.

“What?” Arthur asked.

“Nothing,” Merlin shook his head. “And, just so you know, I eat  _loads_  of food. Seriously, my ability to eat cake and not put on weight ranks in the top five on Gwen’s list of things that annoy her.”

“Her list?” Arthur looked baffled.

“Yeah. Gwen has a list for everything,” Merlin looked vaguely awed as he spoke. “It’s how she manages to keep everything so organised. I don’t think I would have got through first year without her dragging me everywhere I needed to be at the right time.” Merlin stopped suddenly as he realised that he’d shared more than he had intended.

Arthur’s lips quirked eve r so slightly. “Right.”

Merlin dropped his attention back down to the trousers and shirt he had been forced to change into. “Arthur, I really appreciate you helping me here, but this really doesn’t fit.”

“You’re right,” Arthur acquiesced eventually. “You look like a balloon. And you’ll drown in the jacket. Wait here.” Arthur walked towards his bedroom door, but stopped before he opened it and turned back to give Merlin a hard stare. “Try not to touch anything.”

“Yes,  _your highness_ ,” Merlin grumbled under his breath, but it was clear from the stony look he received that Arthur had heard him.

“It’s your  _royal_ highness, actually,” Arthur drawled. “You need to work on your terms of address. Though I assumed you’d given up on all that considering how you’ve been bandying around Morgana’s name all afternoo n.”

“Morgana asked me to call her that,” Merlin stated defensively. “And you told everyone to call you Arthur when we were in France.”

Arthur simply grunted before Merlin suddenly found himself alone. He looked around the room, trying to imagine Arthur and Morgana waking up here on Christmas morning as children. He looked out of the window and could easily see how the Estate could look magical, but aside from the enormous Christmas tree Merlin had glimpsed down one corridor on the way to the parlour, there was no evidence of festivity anywhere. Had it always been like this? More to the point, why did he suddenly care so much?

Arthur returned a few minutes later, carefully carrying a suit. “This,” he announced as he lay it flat on the bed, “belonged to my grandfather. It might actually fit you – Morgana got the skinny genes from that side of the family, not me, and I doubt she’ll be interested in wearing it so…”

“Arthur, I can’t wear this,” Merlin shook his head pointedly, horrified at the suggestion. “It wouldn’t be right.” It wasn’t lost on him that they were already pretending their exchange of minutes earlier hadn’t happened.

“Merlin, look,” Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “I’m sure Morgana’s already warned you, but Christmas here is always a bit… _tense_. Please don’t make it any worse by irritating my father before we even get to the table.”

Merlin was surprised at Arthur’s candidness; it seemed so at odds with his usual behaviour that he was left with nothing to say.

“Just try it on,” Arthur waved Merlin in the direction of the bathroom once more, passing him the shirt and trousers. “I assume I don’t have to find you shoes?”

“Er, no,” Merlin replied, ducking his head and quickly locking himself in the bathroom. He quickly stepped out of the other trousers, not even bothering to undo the buttons as the waist was far too generous. He peeled the shirt off with a grunt of pain, and quickly whispered a word at his injury; he’d never been very good at healing magic, but that didn’t stop him trying to take the edge of the ache – just like the other twenty times he’d tried it nothing happened, so he was left hissing through his teeth as he slid his arm into the new shirt.

Carefully pulling on the trousers and tucking in the shirt, Merlin could tell that this suit fit him far better than the one he’d stuffed in his bag. He glanced quickly at himself in the mirror and tried to flatten his unruly hair with his fingers.

Arthur looked suitably pleased when Merlin reappeared. “Much better. I’m rethinking what I said about Morgan a being better at this than me.” He smirked. “She’s going to hate me. Jacket?”

Merlin picked up the jacket, terrified at how sumptuous the material felt under his fingers. He pulled the sleeve gently over his poor left shoulder first and leaned down slightly to help him get it over his other arm. The angle was awkward due to the slim cut of the jacket and he found himself stopping suddenly, blowing air loudly through his lips as he breathed through a wash of pain, the material taut over the bandage.

“Merlin?” Arthur was wearing that look of concern he’d had back on the chairlift. He reached out his arm to steady the slightly-drooping Merlin and carefully helped him get his arm through the sleeve.

“Thanks,” Merlin spoke softly as Arthur adjusted the jacket. After a long moment he coughed awkwardly. “I feel like James Bond.”

“Well, you don ’t look like it,” Arthur smirked, all traces of concern evaporating from his face as he stepped back to look at Merlin. “But it’s definitely an improvement on your usual style.”

Merlin opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off as Arthur paled suddenly. “Arthur,” he took a step closer to the Prince and studied him carefully, “what’s wrong?”

“A car’s just arrived,” Arthur was looking straight past Merlin and out to where a sleek black car was gliding up the driveway. “That’s probably Elena.”

“Are you okay?”

Arthur twitched slightly. “Look, Merlin, I’ve done all I can for you. Take the bow-tie and waistcoat and make sure you’re ready when George comes to bring you down.”

For one tiny moment Merlin had thought that maybe he was getting a glimpse of the real Arthur, not just the pompous Prince he’d encountered already. Clearly he was wrong.

“Right,” Merlin bobbed his head awkwardly gathered up his own clothes from the bed, along with the waistcoat and bowtie that were lying next to his jeans. “I’ll see you later then,”

Arthur still hadn’t replied by the time Merlin had slowly opened the door and let himself out of the room.

* * *

“You were completely unaware of the nature of the relationship between Prince Arthur and the Lady Astolat?” Morgause looked as though she couldn’t believe this.

“I wasn’t exactly an avid reader of  _Tatler_ ,” Merlin frowned. “Gwen might have mentioned Elena,  _Lady_ Elena when she was explaining who everyone was before I left for Sandringham, but if she did I hadn’t remembered it. Look, I don’t really feel comfortable talking about Arthur’s  _personal_ personal life.”

“It’s alright, Merlin,” Morgause purred. “We’ve already conducted an interview with Lady Elena and she spoke candidly of her relationship with the Royal family. Clarence House is aware that this is going to be an in-depth documentary. Nobody has anything to hide, right?”

“Right,” Merlin sighed.  _Wrong._


	9. Chapter 9

“At what point did you begin to understand the Prince’s apprehension towards the impending arrival of Lady Elena?” Morgause asked.

“I was made aware of the circumstances by the Princess Royal,” Merlin tried not to wince as he remembered the embarrassment of the situation.

* * *

Merlin was nervous.

Not ‘going to the dentist for a filling’ nervous, or even ‘singing a solo in the Nativity play’ nervous (‘ _Silent Night – verse 2’, Ealdor Primary School, 1995),_  this was a whole new  _realm_ of nervousness. He’d been pacing his room since he’d been waved away by Arthur earlier; he was too scared to sit down in case he creased the suit trousers, but couldn’t face going through the rigmarole of taking everything off and putting it back on again; his arm was still smarting from earlier.

George had appeared at about three o’clock, offering ‘ _Mr Emrys a selection of luncheon options’_ , but Merlin had feigned sleepiness in order to get rid of him; his stomach was doing rolls at the thought of actually sitting through dinner with the King. Worrying too much about where his mother’s Yule log had disappeared to was enough to make him feel queasy, and he’d decided thinking of food was a bad idea.

But now he only had twenty minutes left before he was expected to be downstairs to meet the other guests. He’d heard everyone returning from the shoot earlier, and tried to sneak a glance out of the window without being seen. But he hadn’t been quick enough and, when he had managed to track down some signal by leaning precariously out of the window, resorted to Googling the other guests on his phone in order to put names to faces correctly. He had intended to find out why the prospect of seeing Elena had caused Ar thur’s guard to slip back firmly into place, but shamefully he had spent a little too long flicking through images of the Duke Of Orkney from a recent GQ interview and his phone had gone back to triumphantly stating ‘No Signal’ – probably as punishment for ogling a member of the Peerage – before he had the chance. He’d learned, during an eventful Duke of Edinburgh expedition in the woods around Ealdor, that his magic didn’t work brilliantly when it came to fixing technology, so he didn’t chance trying to zap his phone with a quick spell. He could do without reliving the smell of smouldering electronics.

He propped his phone up against the window, hoping that it might have learned to behave itself by the time he returned from dinner. He knew that Gwen was expecting at least a text update, preferably a phonecall, the minute he returned to his room, and he knew the hell he’d get from her if he didn’t comply.

Unable to face the prospect of shrugging off his suit jacket he decided to forego wearing the waistcoat; he’d wear it tomorrow, he decided, for Christmas lunch. With. The.  _King_. However, as this was Merlin and he couldn’t reasonably expect anything to go his way when he was nervous ( _see Nerys’ video recording of Ealdor Primary School Nativity, 1995, for further details_ ), he hit an obstacle in the form of his bow tie; it wasn’t one of the clip-on ones like Gwen had bought for him when they’d gone to their first High Table earlier in the year, it was one of the proper tie-it-yourself ones, the kind that Lance, and therefore probably Arthur, could tie in his sleep. Merlin could  _not_  tie it in his sleep; he couldn’t even tie it if he was fully awake with  _both_  of his arms fully functioning. He whispered some words at the tie and watched, fascinated, as it began to gracefully knot into a bow around his collar. Unfortunately th at was the exact moment his magic decided to display its love for the unexpected; his fingers tingled as too much magic escaped, arcing gracefully towards the door, leaving Merlin pulling at the bow tie as it tied itself tighter and tighter into a gnarled loop. The door opened and his magic drew back into him with a gentle murmur.

He coughed loudly as the pressure on his throat receded. His magic hadn’t played up since he’d saved Arthur’s life; what was it trying to tell him now?

_Oh._

Merlin looked up with watering eyes, just in time to catch Arthur striding past his open door with a face like thunder. Merlin would have laughed, if he wasn’t still coughing, at how Arthur suddenly reappeared, sticking his head through the door.

“Christ,  _Mer_ lin,” Arthur strode towards him, looking rather more baffled than concerned. “What are you doing to yourself now?”

“Bow…” Merlin wheezed straightening up as he attempted to wave airily at the Prince. “Tie. Bow tie.”

“How have you survived this long?” Arthur folded his arms looking cross again; Merlin was beginning to think this was Arthur’s favourite pose. “You’re an accident waiting to happen. I’m beginning to think you should have a full time minder, just to make sure you don’t drown in your cereal or something.”

“Weren't you storming off somewhere?” Merlin coughed, trying valiantly to glare. “I was quite happy choking in peace.”

Arthur pursed his lips, looking like he’d just swallowed a particularly sour lemon. “Hmm.”

“If the wind changes when you’re pulling that face it’ll get stuck like that,” Merlin stated pointedly. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that?”

Merlin watched in horror as Arthur’s jaw went slack and his arms dropped to his side. He felt the blood drain from his own face as he realised his mistake.  _Too late_.

“As a matter of fact,” Arthur said coldly. “No, she didn’t.”

“ _Arthur_ ,” Merlin breathed, reaching out a hand. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to m-“

Arthur flinched away from Merlin’s touch and turned on his heel to leave. As he reach ed the door he had to elbow past the sudden appearance of Morgana, before stalking away without another word.

Merlin looked ashen as he dropped onto the bed and put his head in hand, just as a door (Arthur’s door) slammed shut further down the corridor. “Oh God,” he muttered, over and over again as Morgana stared at him, frowning in concern. Everyone knew you didn’t bring up Queen Ygraine in front of Arthur.  _Everyone._ Even Merlin with his complete lack of Royal trivia knew that. And yet his words had betrayed him when all he’d meant was to lighten the mood.

“Merlin?” Morgana asked quietly. It was clear that she’d seen the shattered look in her brother’s eyes as he barged past her, but didn’t know the reason behind it, not this time.

“I’m sorry, Morgana,” Merlin whispered. “I only meant it as a joke. I wasn’t thinking.”

What happened?” She wasn’t moving towards him, instead looking between him and back up the hallway to her brother’s bedroom.

“I mentioned your mother,” Merlin sighed and closed his eyes unwilling to see a twin look of hurt on the other Pendragon sibling’s face. “Not  _specifically_ , just in reference to mothers generally, and I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone, but Arthur looked so angry when he walked past, and he was insulting me again, and I was just trying to-“

“Hush, Merlin,” Morgana spoke softly, effectively cutting of his rambling, and Merlin flinched only slightly when she pressed her fingertips to his arm.

He opened his eyes and looked up to see the Princess looking consolingly at him. “I didn’t mean to,” he repeated.

“It’s not you. There’s a lot of pressure on Arthur at the moment,” Morgana patted his arm once b efore drawing away. Her fingers moved to the mess he’d made of the bow tie and she deftly began to untangle the material before continuing to speak. “Merlin, I don’t suppose I have to tell you that Arthur finds it very difficult to make friends, so perhaps you can already understand that he doesn’t always react in the right way. I really shouldn’t be telling you this at all, but I’m sure you would never use anything I am about to say to you against my brother.”

“How do you know that?” He didn’t mean it as a challenge to her presumption, he was simply curious.

“I don’t know,” her fingers stilled their ministrations for a moment. “I just feel like I can trust you; that I should trust you with  _Arthur_.”

Merlin only nodded, because what could you say to that? Ever since he’d reencountered Arthur earlier that day there’s been an insistent nagging in his mind, telling him it was important for him to get to know Arthur properly. That somehow, despite the fact the Prince was a complete arse to him most of the time, Merlin needed to be here.

“Uther wants Arthur to marry sensibly,” Morgana crossed the ends of the bow tie over each other. “He would prefer his son’s marriage to result in a strong political and economic allegiance rather than a life of wedded bliss; Uther’s not against the idea of wedded bliss, he had that himself if only for a short time, but he sees it more as welcome happenstance than a necessity.”

Merlin frowned at Morgana’s words as she completed the tie. “Elena?” he asked hesitantly.

“Elena is brilliant,” Morgana sighed taking a step back and leaning against an ornate dressing table. “Really, really great, and Arthur gets on with her fantastically. I know that if he felt anything for her that was mo re than friendship he’d be thrilled; what could be better than falling in love with a close friend, after all? But he doesn’t, and Elena feels the same way about him. Elena is fourth in line to the Danish throne on her mother’s side, and Uther would like nothing more than to begin ‘reuniting’ certain countries in an attempt to start rebuilding the old Pendragon Empire.”

“Surely he can’t force them together?” Merlin kept his voice low as he realised that the door to his room was still open.

“Arthur will one day be a great king,” Morgana couldn’t keep the hint of pride from her voice, and Merlin fleetingly wished that he knew what it was like to have a sister. “But he stills clings to Uther’s ideals for the sake of propriety and expectation, even if they go against everything he believes.”

“So Arthur  _will_  marry Elena?” Merlin felt anger on behalf of Arthur prickle under his skin. “Even though neither of them wants it?”

Morgana studied Merlin very carefully for a long moment. “I do not think Arthur will make the wrong choice. Not in the long run. But for his sake, and for Elena’s, he must resist Uther’s wishes.”

A knock on the door halted all further conversation and Merlin was displeased to see George staring obsequiously at the pair of them. “Drinks are served in the Drawing Room.”

“Thank you, George,” Morgana nodded quickly. “I’ll ensure Mr Emrys finds his way.”

Merlin ran his fingers over his suit as he got to his feet, resisting the urge to stick his tongue out at the back of George’s head after the man gave him a lightly-concealed onceover before leaving.

“Ready, Merlin?” Morgana asked, no trace of the serious conversation that she’d just had marring her smile. “That’s an excellent suit, by the way. From which hat did Arthur produce that piec e of exquisiteness?”

“It was your grandfather’s,” Merlin replied hesitantly, self-consciously smoothing the cuffs over his wrists.

Morgana held out her hand and squeezed Merlin’s fingers lightly when he accepted. “It's perfect, Merlin. Now, battle-faces on!”

* * *

“All Princess Morgana really told me was that it would be considered a good match if the Prince and Lady Elena decided to marry at some point in the future,” Merlin pursed his lips slightly. But remembering that’s what Arthur always did, he let his lips droop with a sigh. “She told me that the Prince and Lady Elena had been friends for a long time.”

“That’s all the Princess said?” Morgause did  _not_  believe him.

“Yes,” Merlin nodded forcefully. “And, she helped me tie my bowtie. Other than Googling the dinner guests n othing else happened between me trying on my suit and the drinks reception.”

Morgause looked positively murderous.

* * *

“Ah, Merlin!”

Merlin’s feet froze to the parquet floor as a beaming Uther strode towards him, arms outstretched. For one horrible moment Merlin thought the King was going to hug him and tensed every muscle in response. However, Uther simply gripped Merlin’s arms tightly where they hung by his sides, thankfully avoiding his injury. “Your Majesty,” he mumbled eventually, trying to not to stare openly at the string quartet he’d just noticed in the far corner of the room

“Morgana,  _darling_ ,” Uther’s attention snapped to his daughter, “I trust you have been making our guest feel welcome.”

“Of course,” Morgana smiled tightly. “In fact, if you’ll excuse us, father, I’m just going to introduce him to everybody.”

Merlin suddenly found himself being directed away from the King by Morgana’s iron grip on his arm. “Morgana?” he whispered, staring at her wide-eyed as he was hurried across the room.

“Just smile, Merlin,” Morgana hissed through her teeth, her cheery demeanour not faltering as they walked by a man and woman Merlin recognised as Tristan de Bois and Helen Cooper. “Just remember to keep smiling and I’ll make sure you get through all of this alive.”

“Morgana!” A blonde girl suddenly wrapped her arms around the Princess, almost elbowing Merlin in the face in the process. He took a surprised step backwards as Morgana was pulled from his grip.

“Oh my God, I am  _so_  sorry!” The blonde whirlwind was now speaking directly at Merlin. “I wasn’t trying to hit you! Honestly.”

Merlin took in the pleading eyes of the girl in front of him; she looked horrified that she’d almost hurt him. Her blonde hair was mostly pulled back into an elegant style, but a few stray wisps had escaped from around her ears giving her an overall impression of being  _almost_ composed and graceful, but not quite. This must be Elena, and he liked her on sight. “That’s okay, erm…” Merlin then proceeded to make himself cross-eyed as he tried to remember exactly how he should be addressing her.

She solved the problem for him. “Elena,” she announced with a smile as she stuck out her hand. “You must be Merlin.”

“That’s right,” he smiled gratefully as he shook her hand.

“I was very impressed to hear about how you saved Arthur,” she grinned at him. “I was just discussing it with Gwaine.”

Merlin was startled as he not iced that there had been a man standing behind Elena the whole time; a man whose photo had very nearly been saved to Merlin’s phone from his Google search earlier that afternoon (the one of him wearing a dinner jacket very similar to the one he was wearing now in fact). The man grinned, and Merlin was sure he must have seen the momentary gawping.

“That’d be me,” the man said, laughing slightly as he also shook Merlin’s hand. “So we’ve got you to thank for saving our damsel in distress then, do we?” He waggled his eyebrows and Merlin felt his cheeks heat up slightly.

“Leave him alone, Gwaine,” Elena smacked her companion none too lightly on the arm.

Gwaine rolled his eyes at Merlin, his eyes still sparkling with mirth. “Women,” he shook his head. “So demanding. Not that that’s always a  _bad_  thing.”

Merlin snorted slightly as Gwaine turned his attention to Morgana; he was interested to see how this exchange would go, considering Morgana had announced Gwaine’s status as ‘hot’ in the car that morning.

“Your Royal Highness,” Gwaine ducked his head slightly, though didn’t stop grinning.

Morgana shook her head. “Don’t leer, Gwaine, it really doesn’t suit you. Though you’d look a hell of a lot better if you were holding some drinks for us all.”

Gwaine laughed loudly, tipping his head back as he walked away with a mock bow. Merlin was momentarily distracted by the shininess of his hair, but then Elena was speaking to him and his attention was drawn out of the gutter his mind was rapidly falling into.

“So how are you finding being here?” Elena was smiling encouragingly at him. “I’ve been coming here for years and I still find it horribly intimidating when I fi rst arrive.”

“It just takes a bit of getting used to,” Merlin looked around the room. “This isn’t exactly what I’m used to. But Morgana has been wonderful.” Morgana preened slightly under his compliment and he grinned. “She brought snacks for the car journey so I’m officially indebted to her forever.”

“And Arthur is being a good host?” Elena continued. “He sent me a great big long email about your daring rescue, just after it happened. I was in Bolivia at the time, with my mother’s charity, so I completely missed everything on the news. It takes a lot to impress a Pendragon, Merlin, and you seem to be doing it brilliantly.”

Elena was smiling so brightly at him, with such unguarded warmth, that he didn’t have the heart to tell her that the Crown Prince had been sulking in his room for the last half an hour because of his stupid big mouth. He caught Morgana’ s eye instead as she watched him intently again.

“Speaking of Arthur, where  _is_ he?” Elena asked, looking around on a fruitless search for the Prince. Her face fell when Morgana scrunched her nose slightly. “Oh. Right.  _That_  again.”

“It’s not your fault, Elena,” Morgana said quickly, looping her arm over her friends’ shoulders. “He just doesn’t want anyone to get hurt, and thinks that by pushing everyone away it’ll be easier to deal with it. He thought Uther had forgotten about it; he hadn’t mentioned it since Arthur went back to Albion after the summer.”

Gwaine’s reappearance with four glasses of champagne, balanced impossibly between his fingers, drew a premature halt to the conversation. “I hope you like bubbly stuff,” he said as he passed a glass to Merlin. “It’s all they seem to drink in this place.”

Champagne goes straight to my head.” Merlin glanced at the glass warily.

“Perfect,” Gwaine laughed, and Merlin was slightly torn as to whether the faint leer he detected in Gwaine’s voice was something to celebrate, or shirk away from.

 _What the hell is wrong with you, Emrys?_  He cursed himself as took a sip of the drink, bubbles tickling the back of his throat on contact. Merlin, as a rule of thumb, did not throw himself at anyone, particularly not unknown men – he stubbornly ignored the terms of his meeting with Arthur. He also did not spend his time fantasising about strange men, at least not when they were still standing next to him and he was going to be forced to make polite conversation with them over dinner. Although, he highly doubted Gwaine was one for  _polite_  small talk. Merlin hastily thanked his lucky stars that at least his notoriously badly-timed libido had at least chosen to m ake a beeline for a mere Duke ( _Ha!)_ rather than the Prince.

Yet, as Merlin’s lucky stars were not fond of him or his overly expressive face, of course, that would be the moment he turned around on hearing sudden high-pitched giggles; the moment when his bottom jaw descended further south than it should have, and his eyes widened until they resembled those of a manga character;  _the moment_ Arthur walked into the Drawing Room like a vision in custom tailoring.

Morgana brushed her fingers very lightly against Merlin’s jacket and quirked her lip ever so slightly as he met her gaze. He clamped his mouth shut and turned his attention back to Gwaine.

_No, that really wasn’t helping matters!_

“Elena, do  _you_ like champagne?” Merlin wanted to strangle himself with his own bow tie (again) when he processed his asinine question.

Thankfully Elena didn’t seem to mind. “Well, this is rather good,” she smiled gesturing with her champagne flute. “But I’d prefer gin.”

“Me too!” Merlin momentarily forgot the minor inconvenience he was experiencing and grinned. “All my friends at uni tell me I’m an old woman for drinking it.”

“Same!” Elena laughed delightedly, and Merlin was aware that Morgana and Gwaine were frowning at them. “You’re at Albion with Arthur, is that right?”

“Yes.”  _Don’t think about anything other than Elena._

“I really wanted to go there,” Elena sighed. “But it was Mum’s lifelong ambition for me to go to Mercia, just like her.”

“Oh, so you’re the enemy!” Merlin chuckled taking a sip of his champagne. “Well I’m sorry but I don’t think we can be friends.

“Too late,” Elena clinked her glass against his. “I think I’ve decided we’re friends already.”

Merlin jumped as Arthur’s voice suddenly came from right behind him. “Is Merlin being a social butterfly? Watch out, he’ll probably spill something on you.”

“Shut up, Arthur,” Elena frowned at him, although Merlin could tell she was pleased to see her friend. “Merlin’s lovely.”

Arthur didn’t say anything to that, but Merlin noted (safely from the corner of his eye) that he no longer looked like he was about to kill him. Instead the Prince allowed himself to be wrapped in a tight hug by Elena.

“It’s good to see you, El,” Arthur smiled, and Merlin was sure it was the first  _real_  one he’d seen on the Prince since he’d met him.

* * *

“We were summone d into the Dining Room soon after that,” Merlin shrugged. “I was introduced to everyone else. We had dinner. A lot of it. There was a really nice pie for dessert. The next day I went on a walk and had Christmas lunch. Then on Boxing Day I left Sandringham in the evening to head back to Ealdor. Can we have a break now?”

Morgause ignored him. “What happened at dinner, Merlin?”

* * *

“It’s  _so_  nice to meet you,” Vivian gushed at Merlin as Morgana introduced him before they sat down to eat. “I just  _adore_  your hair.”

Morgana bit her lip and avoided catching Merlin’s eye, even though he clearly saw her mouth ‘adore’ at him from over Vivian’s shoulder.

“It’s very nice to meet you too,” Merlin gallantly replied eventually, doing his utmost not to laugh as he was herded through to the Dining Room. He was quite pleased that he managed not to fall into an overwhelmed stupor at the grandeur of the room; clearly he was becoming accustomed to this.  _Yeah, right…_

“I’m also very pleased to meet you,” Mithian, or at least he  _assumed_  it was Mithian, appeared at his side with a simpering smile. “I’m Lady Mithian.”

“Just  _Mithian_  at the dinner table, dearie,” Morgana smiled tightly and Merlin would be willing to bet that Mithian’s life was in danger if she continued to irritate the Princess all evening.

Merlin smiled at the twins he seemed to have developed either side of him. “Yes, well, it’s pleasure. Really.”

“Excuse me ladies,” Arthur’s hand dropped onto Merlin’s right shoulder. “You’ll just have to let go of our guest of honour for a little while.”

Despite the fact Arthur’s grip was rather tight, and lacking any measurable amount of friendliness, Merlin was glad to be led away from the cloud of perfume he’d found himself enveloped him. He shook himself as he walked, but it seemed as if the effect of suited-and-booted Prince Arthur had worn off, and Merlin was now able to exist in his presence without his brain expiring.  _It must be your magic short-circuiting. Messing with your head._

“You’re sitting next to me,” Merlin heard Morgana tell the twins, the sigh evident in her voice. “Both of you.” He was sure he didn’t imagine the outraged squawk from Vivian.

Merlin found himself standing wedged between a high-backed chair and the fussiest dining table Merlin had ever seen. The Pendragon coat of arms was inlaid in various places on the table, all drawing the eye towards a golden dragon recessed into the very centre. Each place seemed to have had the contents of a cutlery dr awer neatly arranged on either side of a placemat, and Merlin noted that they each had four glasses. He gulped.

Arthur must have noticed because he did actually squeeze Merlin’s shoulder lightly, from where he stood to his right, before letting go altogether. “Don’t sit down until my father does,” he whispered and Merlin stood up as straight as possible. “Also, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry about earlier.”

Merlin was genuinely stunned at the apology. He opened his mouth to make an apology of his own, but then Gwaine stepped into the place on the other side of Merlin’s chair and Uther swept into the room.

“Welcome everyone,” Uther boomed, lowering himself into his chair at the head of the table, with everyone else following suit shortly afterwards. “Family and friends,  _all_.”

Merlin ducked his head when Uther looked at him; he pointedly ignored Morgana’s smirk.

“We have a lot to be thankful for this Christmas,” Uther continued. Merlin had almost forgotten it was actually Christmas Eve, since nobody seemed to be saying anything about it. “But we will think more on our good fortune tomorrow. Tonight is a chance to celebrate and relax. Wine, George.”

George stepped forward with a bottle of wine and that seemed to be the cue for everyone to start talking. Merlin was slightly disappointed to see that Arthur’s attention had been caught by his uncle sitting on his other side; he needed Arthur to know he hadn’t meant to bring up his mother so thoughtlessly. Also, he needed Arthur to tell him which fork to use, because Morgana was too far away on the opposite side of the table; he knew he was supposed to go from the outside in, but there were contraptions on the table he’d never seen before. Not even after religiously watching  _Sa turday Kitchen_ with his mum every weekend.

“Just watch the girls,” Gwaine leaned closer to Merlin and grinned. “Morgana and Elena, I mean, if you get stuck on which fork to use; the pair of them have been brought up in all this.” He gestured around the room.

“Haven’t you?” Merlin frowned. Gwaine was the Duke of Orkney, wasn’t he?

“My mother escaped from my father when I was still a baby,” Gwaine shrugged. “I never really saw him, but they never got divorced. So, when he died last year I got a Duke’s title I didn’t know what to do with. And a castle. A  _castle_ , Merlin!” Gwaine laughed and nudged Merlin as if they were two friends casually drinking in the pub. “Has anyone ever given  _you_  a castle?”

“Of course. Just last week I was given two,” Merlin nodded his head with a grin, revelling in the fact he actu ally had someone to talk to.

Gwaine roared with laughter, and Merlin was sure he hadn’t been that funny. “So, Merlin, tell me how you saved the Princess.”

Merlin frowned.

Gwaine chuckled again. “Not  _that_  one,” he pointed at Morgana. “ _That_  one.” He was nodding his head towards Arthur two places along.

“Does he know you call him that?” Merlin didn’t know whether to laugh or take cover.

“We’ve met twice,” Gwaine shrugged. “Both times he came across as a bit of a Princess. I told him so. He didn’t correct me, but he did tell me I wasn’t allow to say things like that to him, because he’s the Crown Prince.”

Merlin snorted into his second empty champagne glass as George poured him a large glass of white wine. “He said something like that to me, as well.”

“Ah,” Gwaine held up his finger as though he was about to impart wise words, “but the difference is, Merlin,  _you_ threw yourself in front of a bullet for him. I just kicked his arse on the polo field instead.”

“You play  _polo_? I thought you were only recently…er….recently  _posh_.”

“No, I’m recently a Duke,” Gwaine laughed, “but sadly the  _posh_  comes from being a Marquess since birth.”

“I don’t even know what that is,” Merlin admitted with a wry smile.

“It means I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth and a poker up my backside,” Gwaine rolled his eyes. “Luckily both were removed before they could do permanent damage. Some people aren’t so lucky…” He was gesturing towards Arthur again, and from the way the Prince stiffened slightly, Merlin was sure he had heard him.

 

**ooOOoo**

Uther finally announced he was retiring to bed and there was an almost-audbile collective gasp of relief around those left at the table. Lady Helen had already made an early exit, claiming she had a headache -Gwaine whispered to Merlin that it was actually so she could go and watch  _Strictly Come Dancing_ in her bedroom. Lady Catrina and Lord Geoffrey rose to leave at the same time as the King. Tristan followed shortly after, dragging his step-daughters with him, despite their unsubtle protests that they were old enough to stay with the others.

Merlin, despite his initial reservations, had enjoyed himself immensely; this was partly due to the amount of wine he’d consumed, but mainly due to Gwaine’s excellent company. Apart from a two-minute conversation with the King, Merlin’s time had been entirely monopolised by the Duke of Orkney.

“Oh, thank God,” Morgana threw her napkin up into the air with a sigh. “At least that’s over with for another year. This has to be the worst collection of dinner guests ever formed; present company excepted, of course.”

“It wasn’t that bad, Morgana,” Arthur smiled slightly.

“ _Wasn’t that bad_?” she hissed. “I had to deal with  _both_  of them. Give me some support, Arthur Pendragon, or I swear I’ll feed you to Vivian immediately and without hesitation.”

Arthur blanched and a laugh bubbled out of Merlin’s mouth before he could stop it.

“I don’t know what you’re laughing for,” Arthur grumbled. “I think I heard Mithian comment on her  _unbridled_ affections for you.”

“What?” Merlin choked.

Arthur grinned manically at his reaction. “She told her  _mother_ , Merlin, that she h as a, and I quote ‘ _thing’_ for you.”

Merlin shuddered in horror. “Don’t say such things.”

Arthur shrugged. “I only speak the truth.”

“Well I’m sure the Lady Mithian will have some competition,” Gwaine smirked as he rose to his feet, patting Merlin on the shoulder. “Can’t let her be thinking she can just take what she wants from under other peoples’ noses.”

There was absolute silence for the first time all evening. Merlin didn’t open his mouth; he was convinced he would just emit an unending stream of babble.  _WHAT?!_

Arthur and Morgana were wearing identical expressions; both slack-jawed, wide-eyed and increasingly flustered.  _Oh God,_ Merlin thought,  ** _Morgana_** _is flustered. That’s not right. That’s not right._

Only Elena seemed to be unsurprised by Gwaine’s turn of phrase. “God, Gwaine,” she shook her head with a snort of laughter. “You’re incorrigible. A total pest, in fact!”

“On that note I shall bid you goodnight.” Gwaine bowed slightly with a grin at each of them, his eyes lingering just longer than necessary on Merlin’s very surprised face before he sauntered out of the room.

“I think he’s right,” Elena stifled a yawn with her hand. “I’m glad I don’t have to walk too far this time. The other wing feels like it’s  _miles_  away. I guess there’s some benefits to being a potential future Queen.” She grinned ruefully at Arthur, hoping he’d get the joke, but he was too busy staring at Merlin in confusion. “Goodnight everyone. Early Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas,” Morgana replied, although her eyes still hadn’t left Merlin ei ther.

Elena picked up her shoes from where she'd discarded them under the table and left with a final yawn.

“ _What_ ,” Morgana leaned forward, elbows on the table for the first time all evening, “the  _hell_  just happened?”

Merlin shook his head mutely for a long moment, the amount of wine he’d imbibed suddenly going straight to his head. He clambered unsteadily to his feet and exited the room as swiftly as possible.

As he reached the staircase and slowly tried to find his room again he momentarily wondered if not bidding a Prince and Princess goodnight was a punishable offence. If it was, he didn’t think he’d mind; death couldn’t be worse than this.

* * *

“"Not much," Merlin shrugged, hoping he wasn't blushing as much as he thought he was. "Not much happened at all."


	10. Chapter 10

“What was the timetable for Christmas Day?” Morgause barely let him pause for breath. “The public used to have a greater understanding of how the Royals celebrated Christmas;, at a time when the King and the Queen welcomed their staff from across the Kingdom into the Great House to share in the festivities. But since the death of the Queen, there have been few opportunities for the people to get close to the family.”

“There is a reason for that,” Merlin’s brown knitted together, the need to defend, if not the  _whole_ Pendragon family, a good number of them surfacing immediately.

“Yes,” Morgause raised her hands, placating, “of course. I’m simply suggesting that you, as the only person without long-standing affiliation to the Pendragon dynasty who has experienced Christmas at Sandringham in recent years, might be able to offer some details. Don’t worry, Merlin, you don’ t need to tell us  _everything_ , if there’s something that you’d rather keep to yourself.”

Merlin hated that Morgause was insinuating something, knew the way it would look on camera if he remained silent, even worse if he stormed out. He hadn’t dealt with the invasive sharks since birth, but Arthur and Morgana had; and they had taught him the importance of remaining friendly, with just a hint of aloofness (an expression he’d laughed at and thought was impossible for someone who wore his heart on his sleeve.  _Not impossible_ , Morgana had said.  _If you don’t give them a little of what they want, Merlin, they will **hound** you until they know everything._)

“No, no,” Merlin jutted his chin out slightly, “I just don’t want feel like I am giving away some of the privacy the family have worked hard to maintain. But, as you said, this is an in-depth documentary with permission from the Pendragon family, so I can speak freely.”

_Challenge accepted, Morgause. Challenge **bloody well** accepted._

* * *

Merlin woke as light assaulted him through his still shuttered lids. He raised his hands uselessly trying to block out the daylight streaming through the now open curtains.

“Good morning, Mr Emrys.”

Merlin mumbled a curse.  _Wait…_ His eyes snapped open in surprise. George was hovering by the window, wearing another toadying expression that was once again underscored with mild disdain. Merlin gathered the sheets up to his chin and scooted back against the headboard. He wasn’t quite sure why he was trying to protect his modesty as he was wearing pyjamas; his mother had made him promise he would wear full pyjamas at all times when sleeping at Sandringham, regardless of how warm his bedroom might be,  _or_ how much pain it might cause pulling a t-shirt over his head.  _What if there’s a fire, Merlin?_ She’d asked seriously.  _You can’t escape from a burning building wearing only ratty sweatpants. What if the **King**  sees you? _Merlin had tried to point out that if Sandringham was burning down the King would have more to worry about than a topless Merlin, Hunith was having none of it. Now he was glad he’d stuck to his promise.

“The Princess Royal has requested your presence at breakfast in the Parlour,” George bowed reverently as he spoke of Morgana. “There is a strict timetable for the day’s activities. There is a copy of the itinerary on your dressing table.”

“What time is it?” is all Merlin managed to eventually spit out, his head throbbing slightly.

“It is nearly quarter to seven, Mr Emrys,” George replied. “Do you require help dressing?”

“No!” Merlin covered his mouth as he realised how loud he’d yelled. George didn’t even bat an eyelid; he simply nodd ed once again and left the room silently.

Merlin ran his hands through his hair and back down over his face. As the pads of his fingers pressed against his closed eyes he groaned; despite his mild headache, the memories of the night before were entirely clear. His face flushed hotly as he remembered Gwaine’s parting words. “Oh God,” he whispered, flinging the covers back and padding toward his phone, which was still propped against the window.

His phone cheerfully informed him that he had four texts, but he watched in dismay as the signal bars disappeared as he picked up the handset. Sighing he open his message inbox and clicked on each one in turn:

**From: Mum  
24 Dec 2010 21:37**

Hi sweetheart.Neryshasdragged  
me into theconservatory to watch  
Officer&Gentleman. Hopeall is  
good in Nfolk. Call tomorrow!Mum  
xxx

_He was going to have to show her how to use spaces again when he got home._

**From: Mum  
24 Dec 2010 21:43**

Where iscake? Neryscrying at  
TV. Willsays hi. Xxx

_Oh God…where **was**  the cake?_

**From: Gwen <3  
24 Dec 2010 21:59**

Merlin! Did you get there okay?  
What’s it like? Tell me  
EVERYTHING!  
Are you being nice to everyone?  
You better text me back tonight  
or I’ll start to think I’m not good  
enough for you anymore :p  
xxxxxxxxx  
PS. Don’t do anything stupid  
without telling me first!

 

**From: Gwen <3  
25 Dec 2010 00:14**

I’m guessing you’re busy or  
have no signal. I did check the  
news to make sure nothing  
dramatic had happened!  
You have remembered what I  
said about not getting drunk,  
yes?  
Text me when you can – the  
fangirl in me is screaming at  
you right now!  
Merry Christmas! Love you  
xxxxxxxx

Merlin grumbled in frustration as he waved the phone around trying to get signal. He really wanted to text Gwen: she’d tell him what to do, probably incorporating some sort of list into the decision-making process. Luck was once again not on his side and his phone refused to give in, no matted how many bargains he offered it.

Someone knocked on his bedroom door and he steeled himself for the reappearance of George.

“Merlin?” It was Morgana calling softly from the hallway. “Are you decent?”

Merlin looked down at his sweatpants and tshirt. “Um, how does a Princess define ‘decent’?”

“Merlin,” he could hear her grin through the door, “if you’re at least partially clothed I’m sure you won’t offend my modesty. I’ve lived with Arthur for twenty years.”

Merlin s trode over to the door and found a glamorously-dressed Morgana on the other side.

“Merry Christmas,” she greeted quietly.

“Merry Christmas, Morgana.”

“I thought you might be in need of a proper breakfast before you face today’s madness.” Her eyes fell on the sheets of paper on the dressing table. “Oh, I see George has left you a copy of the timetable; don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure you’re where you need to be. Now come and have some food.”

“I need to have a shower and get dressed,” Merlin ran his hands through his hair again. “I can’t go wandering around like this.”

“Nonsense,” Morgana whispered. “It’s just you, me and Arthur. Uther won’t appear from his rooms until it’s time to leave for Church, and everyone else will have breakfast in bed. Pyjamas are fine.”

“You’re not wearing pyjamas,” Merlin retorted as he pulled on the soft boots he’d been wearing yesterday.

Morgana rolled her eyes. “Come on.”

Shutting the door softly behind them, Merlin followed Morgana soundlessly down the stairs and back to the Parlour they’d had tea in yesterday. Arthur was already lounging across one of the sofas, eyes closed with an arm flung over his head.

“Arthur, budge up so Merlin can sit down,” Morgana ordered, not waiting for her brother to move, and swiping his legs of the cushions so swiftly he almost ended up under the coffee table.

“Morgana!”

Morgana only shrugged and leaned against the armchair she’d favoured yesterday. “Right,” she padded back towards the door, “I’m going to see if Enid has found the crumpets yet. Then we can have presents!”

Merlin paled.  _Presents? He didn’t have any presents to give to anyone_! He’d consulted Gwen (at length) on the matter and she’d said that, as far as anyone knew, the Pendragon family didn’t really  _do_ presents at Christmas. “Erm, I didn’t know…”Merlin trailed of sheepishly, taking to staring at the floor in earnest.

“But you did! You brought us such a lovely cake,” Morgana smiled as he looked up to see her carrying his mother’s Yule log to the coffee table on a silver tray. “The chef here can’t make good chocolate cake. Trust me, I’ve been complaining about it for years.”

“It’s true,” Arthur nodded as he stretched. “He’s really good at pie.”

“And excellent at pastry,” Morgana chipped in.

“But his chocolate cake’s a bit of a disaster,” Arthur told Merlin seriously, but Merlin w as sure he was biting back a small smile.

_Maybe I dreamt last night. Maybe it wasn’t as weird as I though it was._

Morgana left while Merlin began to convince himself that he hadn’t been involved in some great big Royal faux pas the night before.

“So,” Arthur dropped back onto the cushions once more, drawing his knee up onto the sofa as he faced Merlin, “you seemed to get on well with Gwaine.”

_Crap. So, **not**  a dream then._

“He was very friendly,” Merlin spoke hurriedly. “It was nice to have someone to talk to at dinner, considering I spent the whole meal worrying I was going to do something stupid.”

Arthur’s lips quirked again. “Hmm.”

“You say that a lot, you know,” Merlin allowed himself to relax when it appeared that Arthur wasn’t going to berate him. “Hmm.”

“Usually I’m quite eloquent,” Arthur waved his hands and paused for a long moment. “But there’s something about you, Merlin.”

Merlin wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that.

“Just make sure you let Gwaine down gently,” Arthur laughed eventually. “I don’t think his ego could take the rejection.”

Merlin bristled slightly, feeling immediately defensive. A tiny voice in the back of his mind told him to let it go, but he couldn’t cope with the way Arthur kept blowing hot and cold, swinging rapidly from being almost-friendly to pompous. “I’m not sure that’s quite your business.”

Arthur looked taken aback. He opened his mouth to respond, but clamped it shut quickly when Morgana appeared holding a bag of neatly wrapped gifts. A kindly, middle-ag ed woman with long red hair followed her in, carrying a large platter of crumpets and a teapot. The Prince jumped to his feet to help the woman, laughingly brushing her off as she tried to retrieve the tray from him once more, all talk of Gwaine abandoned.

“Thank you, Enid,” Arthur smiled widely at her. “This looks wonderful, but I could have carried this from the kitchen for you.”

“Thank you, Arthur,” Enid replied, and Merlin noted the familiar way she used the Prince’s given name, as though she’d had permission for years. “But you have a busy day ahead of you and it’s the least I could do.” She noticed Merlin and smiled.

“This is Merlin,” Arthur announced as Merlin stood quickly.

“Of course!” Enid walked towards Merlin and put her arms around him tightly. “Thank you for saving our Prince.”

Merlin eventually managed to kick-start his brain out of its surprised stupor and returned the warm hug before Enid pulled away. “No problem.”

Arthur had adopted his arms crossed, lips pursed stance once more and it was really beginning to infuriate Merlin. Still, he bit his tongue for everyone’s sake and accepted a cup of tea from Morgana when Enid left them alone with the instruction to call her immediately if they wanted anything else.

“Did you sleep well, Merlin?” Morgana asked handing over a plate with a small mountain of crumpets.

“Yes, thank you,” he dutifully ignored Arthur when he sat down next to him once more. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much food in one sitting before.”

“There’ll easily be double the amount today,” Arthur informed him, and Merlin nearly choked on a bite of crumpet.  _So Arthur was being perfectly civil a gain?_

“I’ve seen the turkey,” Morgana’s eyes were wide with unabashed glee. “There’ll be sandwiches for days!”

Merlin grinned, knowing that he’d be eating turkey until it came out of his ears if he was still back in Ealdor. It seemed some things didn’t change, no matter the family.

Morgana popped the remaining half of a crumpet back on her plate and reached into the present bag. “To Arthur,” she read from the tag. “Lots of love from Viv xoxoxoxoxo.”

Arthur wrinkled his nose as he accepted the present from his sister.

“Should I leave you two to open your presents?” Merlin asked, suddenly feeling slightly awkward, as though he was intruding on a tradition.

“Of course not,” Morgana rolled her eyes. “Normally we don’t allow anyone else to be part of the present open ing; it takes too long and it has to be all over and done with before Uther is awake. But we like you.”

Merlin flushed slightly, but nodded his acceptance.

“Our father,” Arthur began, rolling up the sleeves of his jumper, “hosts a Christmas gathering because it’s what’s expected. He doesn’t actually get too involved in the traditions, religious or otherwise. Morgana and I…feel differently.”

“I understand, I guess,” Merlin nodded, once more amazed that he was being granted a look into the very private world of the Pendragons. “My mum’s the opposite – she makes sure we always have a really traditional Christmas with a turkey that could feed ten people, and carols, and Christmas films, and too many mince pies. The King’s speech, obviously. I think it was always to compensate for…er…other things that weren’t there…” Merlin broke off, embarrassed.

Arthur was looking at him seriously. “That sounds… _nice_  actually. Apparently Christmas was my mother’s favourite time of year.”

The atmosphere in the room changed suddenly. There was an underlying tension that seemed to envelop the three of them;  _perhaps_ , Merlin thought, in some strange way,  _we all have more in common than I’d realised._ Merlin and Arthur had never known one of their parents, and Morgana was trying so hard to make Christmas morning special, just as Hunith always had for Merlin. Perhaps Arthur’s mood swings made a little more sense when Merlin really thought about them.

“Let’s not get all maudlin,” Morgana broke the silence, a slight crack to her voice. “Arthur’s got to open his present from Viv. All tears should be saved for that.”

Arthur cracked a soft smile at his sister and grinned briefly at Merli n before attacking the wrapping paper with abandon. Morgana and Merlin watched as Arthur’s features twisted into mild horror.

“What is it?” Morgana stood up from her chair and leaned eagerly towards her brother, trying to peer past the paper to the gift. “Is that…?”

“Yes. Yes, it is.” Arthur held up the gift for the others to see and Merlin had to cover his mouth to keep from guffawing.

In the Prince’s hand was a framed photograph of Vivian pouting at the camera as she draped herself across an ornate golden chair. He pointed at the picture and scowled. “Is that my throne in London? Because that looks a lot like my throne.”

Morgana wasn’t even trying to hide her laughter. “Oh my God,” she wiped tears from her eyes, “see I told you there’d be crying.”

“There’s something else,” Merlin gestured to wards where the paper was still lying on Arthur’s lap. “Look.”

With a quick glance of worry towards Merlin, Arthur steeled himself as he picked up the object. “It’s a…bracelet.”

Morgana snatched it from his hands and had to hand it to Merlin when she started giggling again. Merlin looked at the leather bracelet with a silver tag. On the tag were the initials V and A entwined together in a flowery script.

Merlin decided to take a chance. “You’re going to have to wear it, Arthur.”

Arthur looked surprised that Merlin was laughing at him, but the corners of his lips lifted slightly before he scowled. “No, I don’t  _Mer_ lin. I’m the Prince of Wales.”

“It would be very rude of you to not wear it to dinner later,” Morgana grinned. “You could get away with not wearing outside, you know, ‘in case the press sees’.”

Arthur groaned. “Please tell me Mithian didn’t get me a gift. I don’t understand her at all.”

“Well you’ve met her twin,” Morgana shrugged. “Imagine living with Vivian twenty-four hours a day. I can see how that would send you mad.”

Merlin laughed.

“You’ll be the one fighting her off later,” Arthur told him pointedly. “You really are making yourself quite popular,  _Mer_ lin.”

Merlin carefully considered Arthur’s comment. On one hand he was bringing up Gwaine again in a roundabout way, on the other he’d used the slightly mocking tone when he’d said his name – the one that suggested there was no ill humour behind the words. “Well, I guess that’s because next to your prattishness, I look like a complete angel.”

Merlin held his breath as he w aited for a response.

“Shut up,  _Mer_ lin,” Arthur kicked his foot lightly after a moment. “If you’re not careful I’ll leave you to fight her off yourself, with absolutely no help.”

Merlin smiled to himself, then stopped when he caught Morgana’s raised eyebrow. She waited pointedly for him to acknowledge her glance before delving back into the bag,

“Dear Merlin,” Morgana beamed, not reading the tag at all. “Love Santa’s elves.”

Merlin’s eyebrows knitted together as he hesitantly took the gift. Both Pendragons were looking at him expectantly, and he guessed that this present was probably from both of them. He felt worried and touched at the same time.

“Come on, Merlin,” Arthur nudged him. “It’ll be New Year’s by the time you open it.”

Merlin carefully tore at th e paper in complete contrast to the way Arthur had savaged Vivian’s wrapping. He unwrapped a layer of tissue paper and found himself holding a pair of incredibly soft leather gloves.

“Thank you,” Merlin breathed as he held them up to inspect them more closely.

“Don’t cry like a girl,” Arthur scoffed, but there was no bite to his tone. “If you really don’t like them, you can swap them for something else. Morgana has Selfridges on speed dial.

“Arthur suggested  _a car_ ,” Morgana laughed, and grinned widely at Merlin’s shocked expression. “I thought we should start small and practical. He can get you a helicopter for your birthday or something.”

“Morgana!” Arthur hissed, before turning to Merlin. “I was kidding about the car, Merlin. Kidding.”

“Arthur, you  _asked_ me if you thought he'd prefer a coupe or something more suitable for driving around Albion,” Morgana smirked as she cut herself a slice of Yule log.

“It was a very elaborate joke,” Arthur held his hands up. “I was drawing you in…to make it more believable."

Merlin sniggered and marvelled at how the day suddenly looked a little brighter.

* * *

“It was very kind of the Prince and Princess to buy you a gift.” Morgause didn’t look entirely sincere. “Considering they barely knew you.”

“They’re very generous people,” Merlin stated, no hint of a lie. “I was very grateful for the gloves later on when we went for a walk.”

“But that was after lunch?”

“Yes,” Merlin replied before he realised the purpose of Morgause’s question.

“And therefore after Church too,” Morgause purred happily. “So let’s start there, shall we?”

* * *

Merlin laughed along with Arthur and Morgana as they finished opening their presents. All the while the three of them had happily shared Hunith’s Yule log, unanimously declaring it to be the best chocolate cake in the world. The plastic robin, however, had been missing, and Morgana seemed not to know its fate.

When Arthur announced it was nine-thirty Merlin jumped hurriedly to his feet and announced he needed to go and get ready. They were leaving for the traditional Christmas service in the Estate’s Chapel at ten-thirty and Merlin knew it was going to take him a while to change into his suit again.

“Just a normal tie for the service this morning,” Morgana told him as she followed him to the door. “Do you need Arthur to find you one?”

“I brought one with me,” Merlin assured her as Arthur crunched around in the background tidying up th e discarded wrapping paper.

“I got a coat out of storage this morning,” Arthur called without looking up from what he was doing. “It should fit you. The Chapel is always freezing.”

“Oh,” Merlin was genuinely surprised. “Thanks.”

Morgana looked between the two boys again and appeared to reach some kind of decision. She nudged Merlin out into the hall and shut the door behind her as she followed him. “Merlin…”

“Yeah? I mean,  _yes_?”

Morgana’s face was demonstrating open concern. “Merlin, Arthur is…”she trailed off again and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Morgana, what’s wrong?” A weight of worry began to settle in Merlin’s bones.

“Arthur is…”she tried again, “... _special_.” She sighed, obviously displeased with her word choice.

“Okay,” Merlin replied slowly. “Um, I really need to go and get changed.”

“All I mean is…”

Morgana’s lack of eloquence, something she usually possessed in spades, was concerning Merlin further by the second.

“Just, be careful,” she said eventually. “For both your sakes. Just be… _careful._ ”

Merlin felt like he was missing something important. Morgana didn’t say anything else, just placed her hand gently on his arm for a long moment and went back into the Parlour.

Merlin, utterly stuffed and thoroughly confused, hurried back to his bedroom, hoping that he’d be able to text Gwen. He needed her advice, but on what he wasn’t entirely sure.

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin opened the door to his room as his tie finished magically twirling into a neat knot. Arthur was standing there wrapped up in a long woollen coat, a scarf in a colour that Merlin was beginning to realise was actually now filed asPendragon Red in his mind tied neatly around his neck.

“I brought you this.” Arthur held up a dark navy wool trench coat. “I’m not sure you’d want to try and get your duffle coat past my father.”

“Thanks,” Merlin said again. He took the coat and was pleased that he managed to get it on without too much bother.

“You’re welcome,” Arthur replied. “Are you ready to go?”

“I think so.” Merlin glanced longingly at his still-recpetionless phone, but decided it probably wouldn’t be appropriate for him to take it to the service.

“This bit’s th e easy bit of the day,” Arthur explained as Merlin followed him downstairs. “We all walk to the Chapel together, usually I walk with Morgana.”

“Who do I walk with?” Merlin asked.

“My father wants me to walk with Elena,” Arthur replied quietly, looking around to make sure nobody else could hear him. “But, neither she nor I wants the press to connect us in any way over Christmas, so Morgana’s going to engineer a way of being Elena’s partner instead.”

“Can’t you just walk in a group?” Merlin was genuinely baffled.

“The press insinuate things from the smallest details,” Arthur explained with a sigh. “It’s safer to avoid speculation of any kind if everyone sticks to their pre-designated roles.”

“So do I walk at the back?” Merlin asked. His eyes widened suddenly. “You’re not making me walk wit h Mithian are you? I thought you were kidding when you said you wouldn’t help me fight her off.”

Arthur’s eyes sparkled with laughter. “No, Merlin. Mithian and Vivan are stuck with each other; it’s best for all of us.”

“Oh,” Merlin laughed in relief. “So do I have to stand at the back, ten steps behind like the commoner I am?”

Arthur rolled his eyes, but Merlin could see he was amused. “No,  _Mer_ lin, you can walk with me.”

“With you?” Merlin was glad he wasn’t feeling the magnetic pull towards Arthur that had overcome him last night, because if that was the case he’d be a puddle on the floor as Arthur suddenly took on a very serious expression.

“Well, yes,” Arthur waved his hands. “Or you could walk with Gwaine. If you prefer.”

Even though Merlin knew Arthur was not, categorically  _not_  interested him in any way, he felt that the answer he gave Arthur now would be an important one. His magic tingled under his skin, warning him he couldn’t afford to get it wrong. “Well someone has to keep you from acting too much like a prat, I suppose.”

Merlin thought a brief flicker of relief crossed Arthur’s face, but he couldn’t be sure as he was distracted by the arrival of Morgana, Elena and Gwaine.

“Morning, Merlin,” Gwaine smiled widely at the boy in question.

“Morning,” Merlin replied quietly.  _Do not look at him funny. In fact, don’t look at him… **at all.**_

“Merry Christmas!” Elena grinned wrapping both Merlin and Arthur in affectionate hugs.

“Arthur,” Gwaine bobbed his head slightly in the Prince’s direction.

“Gwaine you will accompany the Lady Helen to the Chapel this morning,” Arthur replied steadily. “My father and uncle will be leading the way and I would rather she did not have to walk alone.”

Gwaine’s eyes roamed over Merlin before looking back to Arthur; there was something akin to a challenge in his eyes, but it was tempered by raw amusement. “As you wish.”

 

**ooOOoo**

“I have  _never_  eaten so much food in my life!” Merlin announced hours later, feeling relaxed enough to drop onto a bench next to Morgana in the stables where Arthur was currently trying to find a pair of spare wellington boots.

“Didn’t you say that about last night?” Arthur mumbled from somewhere inside a cupboard.

“Yes,” Merlin laughed as Elena grinned at him, “but you lot keep raising the bar. I didn’t think I was going to be able to get my jeans on. No offence to the televised speech, but I really could have done with a lie down for half an hour rather than sit next to the King as he mouthed along with his own words.”

Morgana and Gwaine exploded with laughter, and Merlin felt entirely at home for the first time since arriving.

“That’s my father you’re talking about!” Arthur glowered at M erlin as he held out a pair of muddy green wellingtons for him to take. “That’s possibly a treasonous comment.”

“Arthur, I saw you  _doze_  at least three times during the first ten minutes!” Merlin pulled off his own brown boots and stuffed his feet into the wellingtons instead. “The only reason your father didn’t notice was because he was entirely engrossed in the television.”

Arthur scowled, but the roll of his eyes rather spoiled the effect.

“I’m so pleased to be wearing jeans!” Elena sighed happily as she snuggled further down into her coat. “Do you think we could convince the King to let us stay dressed like this for the evening; I don’t think I’ll get into my gown, and the thought of wearing a tiara fills me with dread.”

Gwaine suddenly groaned loudly in annoyance.

“What?” Arthur looked at him sharply.

Gwaine tilted his head and Arthur followed the Duke’s gaze. Vivian and Mithian were hurrying towards the stables, waving madly at the assembled group.

“I thought you’d managed to convince them to stay behind,” Arthur spat acidly at his sister.

“I did!” She folded her arms defensively. “I told them it would be muddy and rainy, and they probably wouldn’t have time to wash their hair before the reception this evening!”

“What are they doing here then?”

“Arthur!” Vivian was calling, and Merlin saw the Prince droop. “Arthur!”

“Yes, Vivian?” Arthur plastered on a smile as the girls arrived, the pair of them dressed head-to-toe in so much Jack Wills it was like being slapped in the face with the Winter Handbook.

“The King wants you to come on the shoot with us,” Mithian was the one who replied. Merlin didn’t miss the fact that she glanced at him appraisingly.

“But I’m going for a walk,” Arthur replied, frowning. “My father is aware that I do not wish to shoot today.”

“He insisted, Arthur,” Vivian simpered. “I think it’s because you didn’t come with us yesterday. He said he didn’t realise that you weren’t joining us.”

Arthur closed his eyes briefly and huffed out a breath. “Ladies, please tell him I’ll follow in one of the Land Rovers shortly. You should all go on ahead.”

“Arthur!” Morgana protested.

“Morgana,” Arthur replied in a dangerous tone. “I’m sure you can manage leading the walk. I’ll see you at the reception.”

“You’re to come back with us, Arthur,” Vivian leaned clo se to him and Merlin knew he wasn’t the only one that wanted to strangle her with her hair in that moment. “The King  _insisted_.”

“Of course,” Arthur said shortly, gesturing for them to lead the way. He gave a final glance to the four people he had intended to spend his time with and walked away without another word.

“I  _hate_  them,” Morgana hissed through gritted teeth as she watched her brother walk away.

“If they had any sense they would have just returned and told the King we had already left,” Elena sighed crossly.

Merlin deflated slightly as he watched Arthur look back over his shoulder just as he reached the house.

“ _That_ ,” Gwaine said quietly to Merlin, “is what happens when you don’t get the silver spoon out quick enough.”

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin, Elena and Morgana were careful to school their faces back into looks of nonchalance as they arrived back at the house after they dropped Gwaine closer to the guest wing. Despite the initial gloom cast over the group at Arthur’s departure, they’d had a riot once they got going. But that didn’t mean they wanted to shove their freedom in the Prince’s face.

Morgana pushed open the main door and her face dropped.

Arthur was sitting dejectedly on the stairs, his elbows on his knees as he cradled his chin in his hands.

“Arthur?” Morgana hurried to his side. “What’s wrong?”

“Those little  _witches,_ ” Arthur shook his head, “lied to me.”

“What?” Merlin and Elena asked at the same time, a glance of concern passing between them.

“Apparently, my father did  _not_  summon me,” Arthur growled. “As we got back to the courtyard Vivian took a fall.”

“Oh I bet she did,” Morgana’s eyes flashed dangerously.

“She wanted me to carry her back to the House, all the while crying into my shirt.” Arthur looked up, and Merlin felt queasy at the look of raw hurt that flashed in his eyes. “I am  _sick_ ,” Arthur waved his hand violently, “of people treating me like I am a game. A  _prize_.”

“Arthur, not here,” Morgana shook her head gently and ran her hand through her brother’s hair. “Let’s go into the Parlour. You know nobody will disturb us in there.”

Arthur nodded and allowed himself to be hauled to his feet. Elena followed immediately.

“I’ll just go and get changed,” Merlin whispered awkwardly to Elena, b ut Morgana overheard.

“Merlin.” There was so much feeling behind his name that Merlin stopped walking away and looked at her. She held her finger up silently as she ushered her brother into the room before turning her attentions back to the other boy. “You’re a part of this now. You can’t walk away.”

“But he’s your brother, and Elena is a good friend,” Merlin still whispered. “I can’t intrude.”

“Merlin,  _you_  are a good friend,” Morgana replied quietly. “I was hoping you would have realised that by now. You’ve been here a  _day_  and everyone has taken to you as if we’ve known you our whole lives. Please, just _stay_.”

Merlin stayed.

* * *

“The Prince didn’t attend the reception that evening,” Morgause stated. “That was confirmed by a source within the House.”

“No, he didn’t,” Merlin replied. After they’d allowed Arthur to rant for a while Morgana had decided it would be best if Arthur feigned a headache and didn’t come downstairs for the reception later on. “He was feeling unwell and retired to bed early.”

“But nobody else did?”

“No.”

* * *

Merlin steeled himself as he knocked on Arthur’s door just after ten-thirty that evening. Nobody had seen the Prince in hours and he promised Morgana that he would check everything was okay before locking himself in his room for the rest of the night.

Arthur opened his door looking pale and drawn; if anyone had seen him they would have believed the headache story without question. “Merlin,” Arthur sighed, looking slightly relieved as he ran a hand through his hair. “You seem to have escaped early.”

“I have many talents,” Merlin quipped, trying to lighten the mood. His face turned serious when he realised Arthur wasn’t in a joking mood. “I came to see if you were alright.”

“Of course I am,” Arthur huffed pompously, before dropping his chin to his chest. “ _I mean_ , I’m fine. There’s no need for you to concern yourse lf.”

Merlin tilted his head to the sight, giving a look he hoped said  _stop being such a bloody prat and talk to me_. It must have been successful because suddenly Arthur was opening his door wider and gesturing for Merlin to come in.

“Has Morgana killed Vivian yet?” Arthur asked as he settled back on his bed, Merlin taking a seat in a modern office chair that looked completely incongruous surrounded by imposing antique furniture.

“Not yet,” Merlin replied, “Though I  _did_  hear Elena suggest to her that she and her sister sleep with one eye open tonight.”

Arthur laughed and Merlin could practically see the tension lifting slightly from his shoulders.

“So,” Arthur pouted slightly, “are you going to sell the secrets of my Christmas breakdown to the press as soon as you leave here tomorrow?”

Merlin was horrified. “Of course not! I wouldn’t do that. Arthur, I-“

“ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur drawled with yet another eye roll, “I was joking. You know,  _joking_ , as in ‘haha, isn’t the Prince hilarious?’”

“Sorry,” Merlin huffed a small laugh. “Just a little bit tense.”

“Why?” Arthur asked.

Merlin scrunched up his face. “Well, I’d say I was worried about  _you_ ,” Merlin chuckled self-deprecatingly, “but then I’d only be inflating your already enormous ego.”

Arthur laughed again, and this time he looked surprised that the noise had been pulled from him. “You’re alright, Merlin,” he nodded after a few seconds. “A bit of an idiot…but alright.”

“Well, thank you very much,  _Your Royal Highness_ ,” Merlin drawled.

“You got it right,” Arthur pretended to give him a round of applause. His face turned serious once more after a few seconds, as if he couldn’t keep up the charade of happiness for too long. “Merlin, I hope you weren’t accosted too much by everyone else tonight.”

“No,” Merlin shook his head. “I just stuck with Morgana and Elena mostly.”

“And Gwaine?” Arthur asked, not quite meeting his eye.

“Yeah,” Merlin replied awkwardly. “Gwaine was there too. Obviously.”

“Just…”Arthur trailed off, reminding Merlin of Morgana earlier that day. “Be careful. Alright?”

“People keep telling me that today,” Merlin whispered before he could catch himself.

“What?” Arthur’s attention pricked up suddenly and he stared hard at Merlin. “W hat do you mean?”

“Nothing,” Merlin shook it off with a forced laugh. “Nothing at all. Look, I need to go call Gwen, and my mother. They’re going to kill me for not doing it sooner.”

Arthur was silent for a long moment. “Of course. Goodnight Merlin.”

“Goodnight, Arthur. And Merry Christmas,” Merlin replied, before fleeing the room as quickly as he could, magic tingling just under his skin until he closed his own bedroom door with a resounding click.

* * *

“So you didn’t see Arthur at all that evening?” Morgause looked as though she knew something Merlin didn’t.

“No,” Merlin replied. “Everyone thought it best to allow him to rest and recover.

“And the next day you went to Hunstanton as a group?”

“That is correct. The Prince, Princess Royal, Lady Elena and the Duke of Orkney, and me. Lady Helen and her daughters left early that morning,” Merlin explained. Though he left out the circumstances of the girls’ departure.

“And nothing of note occurred in Hunstanton?”

“No,” Merlin lied.

_Maybe Arthur had been right; he wasn’t too bad at lying after all._


	11. Chapter 11

“It must have been a relief for everyone to see the Prince feeling better the next morning,” Morgause simpered. “After all, it  _is_  unusual for Prince Arthur to be ill.”

“Well he’d had quite busy week,” Merlin scoffed derisively, “what with nearly being killed. People should be more surprised that he hadn’t shut himself away earlier in the holiday.”

“Quite,” Morgause looked positively gleeful and Merlin felt that he’d somehow just played into  _something_. “Was it the Prince’s idea to visit Hunstanton the next day?”

“No, it was Princess Morgana’s. The plan was to leave after breakfast, when some of the other guests were scheduled to set off.”

***

“I don’t know how it happened!” Vivian spluttered indignantly through her tears. She had turned puce; a  _very_  unattractive shade on her if Merlin did say so himself. “It wasn’t  _me!_ ” Mithian was sitting mutely next to her, white as a sheet.

Morgana scowled. “So, you and your  _sister_ just happened to be in here, but had nothing to do with it?”

“Yes!” Vivian cried shrilly.

“ _Why_ were you even in the Library?” Morgana was bearing down menacingly upon the two teenagers. “This is a  _private_  room, for a start.”

The girls looked at each other quickly, but remained silent.

“You should tell her,” Elena stated calmly from where she leant against the Library door with Merlin, and he almost choked as he tried not to laugh.

“I was looking for Arthur,” Vivian admitted quietly. “I wanted to speak to him before I left.”

“What?” Morgana snarled. “And he wasn’t here so you decided to throw a little tantrum and  _ruin a library_?” Morgana flung her arms round to gesture to the books that lay littering the floor in the far corner of the room where they’d been tipped from their shelves.

“It wasn’t us!” Mithian tried as her sister dissolved into tears. “The books just flew off the shelves!”

“Oh, of course they did,” Morgana spat acidly. “This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!”

“What are you going to do to us?” Vivian looked genuinely afraid and Merlin  _almost_  felt guilty.

“I’m going to give you a warning,” Morgana’s voice dropped dangerously. “You will  _both_  stay away from me in the future. You will stay away from my  _friends._ And most importantly,” she fixed Vivian with a cold stare, “you will stay away from my  _brother_.”

The twins nodded and Merlin could see Elena biting the inside of her cheek as she valiantly tried not to giggle.

“You’re going to tell your mother that you want to leave early. I don’t care how you do it, but you will get out of my sight.” Morgana tilted her chin imposingly as she curled a lip in distaste. “But only as soon as you have put these books back where they belong.”

Vivian and Mithian didn’t move.

“Go!” Morgana clapped her hands and the two girls jumped to their feet, hastily scrabbling to pick up books and shove them back onto the shelves.

“Do you reckon I should ask them to do it in alphabetical order?” Morgana asked Merlin out of the corner of her mouth.

“I thought you wanted to get rid of them  _today_ ,” he replied and she grinned slightly.

“Why would they do this?” Elena was staring at a still-hysterical Vivian in confusion.

Nobody replied, but Merlin’s heart jumped into his mouth when he noticed Morgana giving him a strange look.  _She couldn’t know. There was **no way**  she could know._

“And it was really fortunate that we happened to walk when that pile of books hit the floor,” Elena was nodding thoughtfully. “Otherwise we wouldn’t have known at all.”

“Quite,” Morgana was still looking at Merlin as if she could see straight through him. The same way she had when she’d asked about what happened in Meribel. “I’m glad Merlin asked to see up here.”

Merlin stared back unblinking for a long. “I just like…books.”

Fortunately that was the moment Arthur decided to yell for them to hurry up, and Merlin hastily made his escape feeling Morgana’s eyes burning into the back of his head the whole way downstairs.

“What were you all doing up there?” Arthur asked as Merlin reached him, the Prince holding out Merlin’s duffel coat for him.

“So the duffel’s good enough for today?” Merlin ignored Arthur’s question as he shrugged on his coat.

“Well we are trying to  _look_  like commoners,” Arthur smirked and Merlin rolled his eyes.

“You don’t look very commoner-y,” Merlin waved at Arthur’s black chinos and crisp white shirt. “You still look like a posh prat.”

 

“Commoner-y isn’t a word, Merlin,” Arthur snorted. “And my disguise isn’t complete yet.” Arthur threw Merlin a supercilious glance before raising his arms and pulling a red hoodie on.

Merlin laughed loudly. “It had to be  _red_ , didn’t it?”

Arthur grinned delightedly. “Of course! Aren’t you impressed?”

“Very convincing, Arthur,” Elena smiled as she pulled a woolly hat on over her slightly wild blonde hair. “Well done.”

* * *

 

**ooOOoo**

_Well this isn’t awkward,_ Merlin thought with a sigh.

Merlin was wedged into the back of a muddy Land Rover Defender, Arthur to his left, and Gwaine on his right. He’d tried to follow Morgana and Elena into their car but Leon had shepherded him towards his current situation thinking he was being helpful.

“You don’t want to get stuck in a car with the two girls,” Leon grinned. “This will be the boys’ car.”

“Yeah,” Merlin had replied weakly as Gwaine appeared and put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him in. Only Leon was allowed to sit in the front; how wonderfully  _convenient_. Merlin was annoyingly aware of both of them.

“So, Arthur,” Gwaine ran his hands through his hair as they drove towards Hunstanton. “If you’re not sleeping with Elena, and you’re not sleeping with Vivian. Who  _are_ you sleeping with?”

Arthur’s jaw dropped in surprise.

In the driver’s seat Leon snigg ered and tried to quickly cover it up with a cough. Merlin sank slightly lower into his seat – why did he have to be in the middle of this?

“I beg your  _pardon_?” Arthur’s voice was higher than usual, his voice breaking slightly on the last word. “That’s none of your business.”

Gwaine threw his head back and laughed loudly. “You’re so  _uptight_ , Princess.”

Arthur didn’t reply. He just cursed Gwaine under his breath and turned to look out of the window.

“How about you, Merlin?” Gwaine nudged the boy in the ribs. “Got yourself a girlfriend?”

“No,” Merlin replied quietly, feeling his ears begin to turn pink. He didn’t have the option of turning away from Gwaine, not without resulting in him staring at the back of Arthur’s head

“Boyfriend?” Gwaine tried again.

Merlin shook his head, staring at the tips of his boots.

“You’re both so sweet and innocent,” Gwaine chuckled, s ettling back once more into his seat. “I’ll have to pay you a visit at Albion, Merlin. I don’t think you’re quite taking advantage of the place. I’m sure you’re just not looking in the right places.”

“Perhaps Merlin just has higher standards when it comes to the  _places_ he visits,” Arthur muttered without turning his head.

“Oh, of that I have no doubt,” Gwaine grinned and Merlin finally looked up at him as he winked. “But maybe that’s the problem.”

“I don’t appreciate the way you’re talking about Merlin,  _Gwaine_ ,” Arthur turned and faced the Duke over Merlin’s head. “I’m sure he can manage perfectly fine on his own.”

“Defending his honour are you, Sire?” Gwaine’s tone was lacking in the humour he’d had so much of earlier. “Maybe you aren’t a Princess after all.”

“Well I’m sure Merlin-“

“I  _am_  actually sitting here,” Merlin huffed cutting Arthur off. “So if you two wouldn’t mind shutting up… _my Lords_. I’d appreciate it” He was cross and decided he was going to take a leaf from Arthur’s book; he crossed his arms and pouted in irritation. He didn’t miss the grin Leon shot him in the rear-view mirror.

Arthur shot him a look of surprise; similar to the one Gwaine had received moments earlier.

Gwaine just roared with laughter once more. “Oh, Merlin, I like you!”

Merlin couldn’t quite stop the corners of his lips rising slightly, no matter how hard he tried.

 

**ooOOoo**

“I’m  _not_ going back in the car with those two,” Merlin mumbled to Morgana as she draped her arm around his shoulder after handing him a thermos of coffee.

The biting cold had deterred most people from taking a stroll on the Promenade, and in her casual clothing Morgana was taking advantage of the fact that it was unlikely any of them would be recognised; she squeezed him tighter when she noticed he was annoyed. “What did they do to you?”

“Nothing really,” Merlin replied eventually. “I just don’t understand them. One minute they’re being perfectly  _nice_ , and the next they’re doing whatever they can to get at each other’s throats. I thought the nobility was supposed to breed manners.”

Morgana laughed. “Remember what I told you about titles being worthless? When it comes down to it, Arthur and Gwaine are  _boys_ ; worse than toddler s in many ways.”

“Hey!” Merlin cried. “ _I’m_  a bo _y_!”

“Yes,” Morgana smiled. “But you’re rather different, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Merlin scrunched up his face.

“Oh come  _on_ , Merlin,” she laughed lightly. “I know it was you who scared the living daylights out of Vivian and Mithian this morning.”

“I think that was  _you_ ,” Merlin tried to deflect.

“I was the secondary charge,” Morgana tilted her face up slightly to catch his eye. “You’d already done a pretty good job with the books.”

“Morgana, I…”he trailed off as he realised she was still smiling at him.  _Surely she wouldn’t be smiling if she knew the truth._ But he saw the second it all clicked into place proper ly.

“It  _was_  you,” she breathed, eyes widening, taking his hesitation for confirmation. “The same way you saved Arthur’s life?”

Merlin didn’t want to lie anymore. Not when Morgana was looking at him with such unguarded affection, not the hatred he had always expected. But his instinct for self-preservation was strong and he opened his mouth to make his denials.

“Merlin,  _don’t_ ,” Morgana’s gaze softened further. “Please, don’t lie to me. You saved my brother’s life  _and_  got rid of those horrible girls. Don’t look at me as if I’m about to turn on you. I would never turn against a _friend_.”

 _Friend_. Friends were more important than lies. Merlin took a deep breath and looked around quickly; the rest of them were still quite a way behind. “I have magic,” he whispered. “I didn’t choose it . I was born with it, and I’ve never really understood the purpose. But I finally think I do.”

“Arthur?” she asked carefully.

Merlin nodded. “I think I’m supposed to protect him, Morgana. I really do.”

“Does anyone else know? About your magic, I mean.”

“Mum does, obviously. My friend Will from home, and my Godfather, Gaius ,” Merlin replied. “Oh, and my friend Lance from Albion. You’re the first person I’ve  _told_. The others all found out by accident.”

“Do you have anyone to help you?” Morgana looked as though her heart was breaking a little for him.

“Gaius has studied the subject extensively,” Merlin smiled slightly at the thought of his Godfather. “He’s tracked down lots of antique books and taught me how to read some old languages; but mostly I don't need spells. Things just happen. And I can’t believe I’m telling you this.” Merlin broke off with a nervous laugh, surprised that Morgana hadn’t yet loosened her hold, even though she had an idea of what he could do.

“Merlin,” she smiled sadly at him. “You know, if it wasn’t so obvious that it would never work out, I think I should like to fall in love with you.”

Merlin’s mouth dropped open and he ducked his eyes to the floor.

“See!” Morgana giggled. “Look how lovely you are! And, to use Vivian’s word, mainly because I feel I should reclaim it for the good of the British public, I  _adore_  you already. You can always talk to me, okay?”

Merlin was still too shocked to reply. Shocked at what she’d just said. Shocked that she’d  _accepted_  him.

“Okay?” Morgana tried again, drawing to a halt and dropping her arm.

Merlin finally looked at her. “Okay,” he agreed as he saw the honesty in her eyes. Then he laughed awkwardly. “How is it that you are so  _open_  about everything, and Arthur is as emotionally stunted as he is? Are you  _sure_ you’re related?”

Morgana grinned. “Sadly, yes.” She sobered again quickly. “Thank you for this morning. I know it was to get Vivian back for the way she treated Arthur.”

“Well I have always been told to use my magic for good,” he smiled.

“What are you two so cheerful about?” Arthur grumbled as everyone else caught up with them.

“It’s Christmas, Arthur,” Morgana elbowed her brother gently. “The witches are gone. You’re in excellent company, so just relax.”

“I  _am_  relaxed,” Arthur responded, hi s shoulders completely rigid. “Perfectly relaxed, thank you.” He strode away from the group and didn’t wait for anyone to catch him up as he practically marched down the steps to the beach. Leon trailed behind at a respectful distance.

“I should go talk to him,” Morgana said to the others. “Elena, why don’t you take Gwaine and Merlin up to the usual pub? We’ll meet you there in a minute.”

Merlin reached out and touched her arm. “I’ll go.” He didn’t acknowledge the way Gwaine’s head cocked to the side, searching his face calculatingly.

Morgana nodded after a long moment, and Merlin set off in the direction he’d seen Arthur walk. The wind had picked up even since they left the cars and Merlin was grateful for the gloves that Morgana and Arthur had gifted to him the day before. He picked his pace up as he saw that Arthur had gotten quite far ahead of him, jogging past Leon with a small wave.

“Arthur!” Merlin called, but the Prince didn’t stop. Merlin knew he’d heard him though because Arthur’s posture had stiffened slightly. “Arthur!”

Arthur kept on walking, his head slightly bowed against the force of the wind. After a few seconds he pulled the hood up over his head; but even that coupled with his hands shoved casually in his pockets Merlin noted that Arthur still had something about his bearing that screamed ‘Noble’.”

“Arthur!” Merlin tried again as he got closer. “Arthur! Stop, you bloody great big  _prat!_

That got his attention. Arthur stopped so suddenly that Merlin almost ran into the back of him. As the Prince whirled around he glared at Merlin, yet still, obviously unconsciously, reached out a hand to steady the other boy as he wobbled slightly.

“S top calling me a  _prat_!” Arthur shouted over the sound of the waves when he drew his hand back.

“Why?” Merlin stared back unblinkingly. “Nobody else seems to have the guts to tell you the truth.”

“Oh, you think you’re  _brave_  do you?” Arthur spat. Merlin watched as the Prince’s eyes travelled to where Merlin wore bandages under his coat and Arthur’s frown lessened slightly. “Anyway…Morgana calls me a prat all the time!”

“Well she’s obviously a fantastic judge of character!”

“Clearly not.” The derision was back. “She likes  _you_  well enough.”

“Eurgh!” Merlin shouted in frustration, trying to ignore the fact Leon was watching them in fascination. “Do you know what, Arthur? I actually thought we might be able to be friends, but clearly I was wrong.”

“I would never have a friend who could be so  _stupid_!” Arthur barked.

“Yeah? Well I would never have a friend who could be such an ass!” Merlin threw his hands up in exasperation, wincing as the movement tugged painfully on his shoulder. “I don’t know what you want me to do! One minute you’re talking to me like I might be worth your time, and the  _next_ …we…you’re…EURGH!”

“Well that’s eloquent,” Arthur snapped, but his gaze had dropped to his feet.

“Just forget it, Arthur,” Merlin felt the fight leave him. He’d come to help, and had made the situation worse. “I’m leaving in,” he looked at his watch, “five hours. I’ll play nice with everyone until then, but then you’ll no longer be  _obligated_ to speak to me.”

“Don’t you  _dare_ talk to me about  _obligation_!” A rthur looked far more furious than Merlin had ever seen him. “You know nothing about what’s expected of me. There’s nothing special about you. You’re disgustingly normal.”

“God, Arthur,” Merlin dragged a hand through his hair violently. “You have  _no_ idea how many times I wished that were true. That I was, in fact, ‘disgustingly normal. So don’t presume to know me either.”

Arthur was looking at him questioningly, but Merlin didn’t have the strength to continue. He shook his head slightly, his hands trembling and turned around. He walked away, head down, refusing to meet Leon’s eyes as he walked past him. He had no idea where the others were, and he wasn’t about to ask Arthur. He simply walked back up the steps to the promenade and was grateful to see Gwaine perched on the wall waiting for him.

* * *

“So we went to the pub and had a drink,” Merlin waved his hands, hoping he was imagining the slight tremor in his voice. “Nobody bothered us and it was nice to relax, away from the formality of Sandringham.”

“And you weren’t stranded in Hunstanton?” Morgause looked annoyed.

“No,” he shook his head. “I already told you that Prince Arthur would do no such thing. He was required back at the House by his Father and left with his bodyguard. The Duke of Orkney and I left with the girls a short while later.”

He didn’t mention the fact that Morgana had worried silently for the rest of the afternoon. Nor did he mention the way that Elena shot him knowing looks and squeezed his hand briefly across the table when he arrived. He didn’t mention that before that Gwaine had pulled him into a not entirely unwelcome hug outside the pub.

And he  _definitely_ didn’t mention the fact that as he’d pulled away from Gwaine he saw Arthur watching them from the top of the steps on the promenade, a wounded look flitting across his face for a split-second.

It was only much,  _much_ later that Merlin realised how much that one simple action had hurt Arthur; How it had triggered a set of events that had dragged all of them into a tumultuous few months.

A few months he just  _knew_  Morgause was going to force him to relive.

“Can we have a break now?” Merlin asked, no longer caring if he sounded more than desperate. “Please?”

Morgause nodded, but Merlin could see the light of triumph in her eyes. He wasn’t entirely broken, but she’d forced a crack in his armour, and she was going to exploit it until it disintegrated entirely.


	12. Chapter 12

Merlin stumbled into the hotel room, the heels of his hands already pressing into his eyes as he groaned in frustration.

“Merlin!” He felt Gwen’s fingers come up to pull his hands away from his face. He blinked slowly, his vision slightly blurred as she pushed him gently into a chair next to Lance and closed the door.

“Merlin, what’s wrong?” Lance was looking at him in concern. Merlin watched as the blood left his face. “Does she know about…?” He gestured with his hand.

“Which one?” Merlin scoffed quietly, mimicking the hand wave. “The magic? Everything that happened with Gwaine? The fact that the King is not only  _aware_  of magic, but actively seeks it out to destroy?  _Or_  is that wave the signal for…”He trailed off with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Arthur?”

“Any of them,” Gwen said softly a s she kneeled on the carpet in front of him and took his hands in hers. “Does she know?”

“I don’t know,” Merlin replied shaking his head. “She knows  _something_ , I’m sure of it. I just don’t know what.”

“She’s probably just trying to trick you into saying something,” Lance said reassuringly. “There’s no way she could know about anything. You were always so careful.”

“Not always,” Merlin sighed. “Not careful enough. There would never have been speculation about anything if I’d been a bit more careful.”

“Merlin!” This time Gwen sounded cross and Merlin jumped slightly. “For nearly two years I’ve watched you get sucked into the media circus that surrounds Arthur and Morgana. You have  _always_ done the right thing, no matter how much pain it’s caused you.  _I_ didn’t know what was going on with you for most of that time, and I  _lived_ with you. So believe me when I say you were careful enough with your secrets, if not always with your life.”

A familiar flush of embarrassment spread across Merlin’s cheeks at the thought. “Gwen, you know I had to. I c-“

“That’s not what I’m saying,’ she let go of his hands and sat back on her heels. “There’s no way Morgause Gorlois knows about everything that happened. Even  _she’s_  not got spies that close to Arthur.  _Arthur_ , Merlin, even _Arthur_  didn’t know about the magic until you told him, and he was the closest.”

Merlin closed his eyes against the memory.  _Not thinking about it, not thinking about it. Not. Thinking. About. It! Who was he kidding?_  Of course he was thinking about it; the hot, burning shame that had followed him everywhere since January; the look in Arthur’s eyes when he’d told him to leave. Morgana’s sad eyes as she hovered between wanting to embrace her friend and needing to piece her brother back together.

“Merlin, I don’t think you should be doing this,” Lance was getting to his feet. “I know what we said, but I don’t think this is going to help you. I’m going to tell that woman we’re taking you home.”

“And confirm her suspicions?” Merlin shrugged. I know you’re worried about me, but I owe it to  _Arthur_ -“

“You owe him nothing,” Gwen’s tone was harsh.

Merlin tried to laugh, he really did. “But I do, Gwen. That’s the problem. I gave him every secret I ever possessed.”

“And he turned you away,” Gwen automatically reached out for her friend’s hand again. “Because he’s an arrogant a-“

“Gwen!” Merlin cautioned, eyes flickering to the door to suggest they needed to be quieter. “He might hate me, but he’s not betrayed those secrets. He’s had a million opportunities to tell the world what I am, and he’s chosen not to. Yeah, I know what you’re going to say,” He waved at her to be silent, “that it’s probably for some selfish reason on his part. But, despite everything…I still want to believe that Arthur wouldn’t betray me now for  _my_  sake, not just for his.”

“He’s a prat,” Gwen grumbled, still managing to look proud of her friend.

“He is,” Merlin allowed himself a tiny smile. “But he’s also the Prince of Wales, and in that capacity he taught me something; obligation and desire rarely go hand in hand. I have no  _desire_  to speak to Morgause, but for Arthur…I  _must_.”

“You’re sickeningly noble, sometimes,” Lance laughed slig htly, not quite enough to dissipate the tension in the room.

“Says you?” Merlin shot him a watery smile. “And I’m only noble when it comes to my friends. I can’t begin to tell you the number of spells I’ve imagined casting on Morgause this morning.”

“How do you do it?” Gwen’s soft voice broke through the boys’ weak chuckles. Merlin was surprised to see her eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Gwen?”

“How can you sit there with your heart breaking and  _still_  carry on?” She allowed herself to be wrapped in a hug. “Just letting people think that everything’s okay.”

“I’ve had a lot of practise,” Merlin sighed once more.

Someone knocked on the door and Merlin hastily got to his feet, both he and Gwen swiping at their eyes with their sleeves.

“Mr Emrys?” It was Percy. “If you could make your way back, please?”

“I’ll be right there,” Merlin called back and scrubbed his face with his hands. He gave Gwen’s hand a final squeeze and Lance opened the door for him.

“We’re here for you,” Lance nodded seriously as Merlin slipped out into the hallway. “No matter what happens.”

Merlin nodded, knowing it was the truth. He steeled himself, straightening his spine and all but marching back into the interview room.

“Merlin!” Morgause cooed. “Are you feeling better?”

“Much.” He shot her a smile that he hoped wasn’t too ragged. “Just needed a bit of time – the lights in here are quite bright.” He settled himself comfortably on the chair once more and forced himself to meet her gaze; he could do this. He’d buried his feelings so many times in the past, he just needed to draw on every reserve he had. “What do you want to know?”

“Okay. Camera’s rolling,” Percy announced. “And. Action.”

Morgause gave Merlin another cool stare, almost daring him to look away. He held her gaze as she said, “Merlin, tell me about New Year.”

* * *

“Gwen, I think we need to cancel New Year Film Fest!” Merlin announced as he walked into the flat he shared with Gwen, four Sainsbury’s bags weighing him down as he stumbled to the kitchen.

“What?” Gwen hurried out of her room running a brush through her damp hair. “Why?”

“I’ve been invited to a party in London,” Merlin shrugged as he dropped the bags and retrieved a packet of chocolate Hobnobs.

Gwen’s mouth dropped open, her forehead creasing as Merlin opened the packet and crammed a biscuit in. “But…We’ve had this planned for ages. You’re…. _ditching_  me?”

He smiled crookedly, a few crumbs escaping. “Of course not, you daft thing. Did I forget to mention you and Lance were invited too?” He knew he should just explain fully, but there was something so familiar about teasing G wen that it warmed his heart, a brief respite from thinking about everything that had happened in Norfolk days earlier.

“Merlin!” Gwen said sternly. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Well, I was in Sainsbury’s,” he gestured to the bags he was beginning to unpack, “, which was practically empty by the way; nobody seems to have come back from Christmas yet. Anyway, half way through deciding whether I should buy own-brand tea for once or continue to splurge the extra eighty pence on Twinings I got a phone call from Morgana.”

Gwen dropped the brush from her hand in surprise. “You got a phone call from the Princess Royal? Merlin!” She squealed and ran towards him, pausing comically mid-stride as a thought struck her. “Merlin,” she practically whispered, “do you mean to tell me that you’ve just been invited to her New Year’s Eve party?”

“Yep!” Merlin grinned, as he started emptying the next bag of shopping.

Gwen still hadn’t moved. “The  _same_ New Year’s Eve party that has been ranked as the third best party in the world  _twice_ by Time Magazine?”

“The very same,” Merlin put the milk in the fridge and reached for the final few items. “Although probably not _exactly_  the same. I can’t imagine Morgana doing anything the same twice.”

Gwen was still staring at him wide-eyed.

“Er…Gwen?” Merlin prodded her arm. “This was quite funny to begin with, but now you’re freaking me out a bit.”

Gwen squealed once more and threw her arms around his neck. “Oh my God, I  _love_  you. I mean, I loved you anyway, but now I love you even more!” she laughed. “I completely forgive you for your lack of contact while you were in Norfolk. Although, I still expect you to tell me  _everything_  when we go to the Union later, considering you still haven’t.”

“Gwen!” Merlin held his hands up in surrender. “My mum didn’t leave me alone for five minutes when I got home again, and I’ve only been back here since lunchtime.” He could have told her already, of course, but he was still choosing which version of the story she’d get. Merlin was very good at stalling, he just hoped that Gwen had noticed.

“Hmm,” she said, still smiling slightly despite her tone. “I know you’re hiding something, you know. You’ve never managed the Ealdor to Albion train journey without calling me at least once to save you from boredom.”

_Ah. So she **had** noticed._

“I told you,” Merlin shrugged, he’d been doing his best to appear upbeat. “I was tired and slept for most of it.”

“So will your new best friend be there?” Gwen grinned, filching a hobnob. She shook her head with a laugh at his confusion. “Prince Arthur, obviously.”

Merlin felt the blood leave his face, but even if he hadn’t he could pinpoint the exact moment when Gwen spotted something in his expression that caused her eyes to widen.

“Merlin?” Gwen asked carefully, taking one small step backwards so she could see him properly. “Why do you have that look on your face?”

“What look?” Merlin tried to smile innocently. “There’s no l-l-look. No look on my face. Just my face.”

“Mmmhmm,” Gwen chewed her lip. “Yeah, if the hangdog expression hadn’t been enough, I would have figured it out from the spluttering. “

 _Damn it, Emrys_ , he berated himself. Remember: expressive face plus sneaky feminine intuition equals bad result for Merlin.

“Gwen, we’re going to Morgana’s party; a party for cool and interesting people that  _we_ have been invited to. And it’s tomorrow, so shouldn’t you be deciding what to wear?” Merlin was quite pleased with his attempt at deflection. He left out  _‘and I’m relieved because Morgana has assured me that Arthur won’t be there, and neither will Gwaine, and I have to go because I want to apologise to her in person for Hunstanton. Oh, and I don’t want to give her up!’_

“I already know what I’m wearing,” Gwen waved her hand at him. “Stop trying to distract me.”

_Damn her for being so practical._

“Prince Arthur and I aren’t friends,” Merlin held her gaze. “We had an argument and that’s that.”

Gwen look horrified. “You had an argument with the Prince of Wales?”

“Gwen,” Merlin huffed. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“Merlin, I can’t be on any side if you don’t tell me what happened!” Gwen put her hands on her hips.

“Would me saying I don’t want to talk about it make any difference?” Merlin started unbuttoning his duffle.

“Not a bit,” Gwen said immediately. “Don’t take your coat off. We’re going to the Union  _now.”_

“What?” Merlin frowned at the clock. “But it’s only six-thirty. We haven’t eaten yet. Oh, and your hair’s wet!” Merlin felt slightly triumphant as he pointed at her.

“We can eat there, and just this once my hair can take one for the team,” she smiled smugly, quickly knotting her hair up into a bun and sliding a pair of boots on. “I’m willing to risk frizz for you, Merlin.”

“Can’t we just stay in then?” Merlin asked. He didn’t want to have this conversation at all, and especially not in public.

“Nope,” Gwen beamed. “Because you owe me lots of drinks. Lots and lots of them – not even necessarily alcoholic ones, but lots of them nonetheless. And you can buy me dinner too.“

He sighed as she spun him round, grabbed a jacket and pushed towards the door. “I’ll just call Lance then, shall I?” He sighed.

“No,” she grinned as she locked the door behind them. “ _I’ll_ call Lance and you can start getting your story straight. I can’t believe you thought you could distract me with a party invitation.”

Merlin scowled into the dusk. He knew he didn’t imagine Gwen’s excited squeak when she thre w her arm around his shoulders seconds later.

* * *

“And it was at the Union that Miss Smith was overheard making a disparaging comment about the Prince?”

“As I said earlier,” Merlin gritted his teeth, “Gwen was misquoted  _and_  that journalist should not have been in a university building.”

“Ah, yes,” Morgause nodded, obviously trying to look thoughtful. “Miss Smith believed that you were upset about the Prince’s actions over Christmas.”

“I wasn’t,” Merlin shook his head defiantly.

“Yes, you said that already.”

“I was dealing with something else in my personal life.”

“What?”

“It’s personal.”  _Fictional._

* * *

Merlin had his elbows propped on a sticky table in the Union bar, his head was in his hands, although it felt more like it had detached from his neck and was wandering around three feet behind him. “Oh God,” he moaned into his hands. “Why did you make me drink bourbon? I don’t even like it. It makes coke taste like banana, so really I should have just eaten a banana dipped in bourbon. Or coke.”

“Lance,” Gwen, who was stone cold sober, looked at her boyfriend, “could you go and get him a pint of water?” A few people had recognised Merlin from the news reports over Christmas and Gwen had made a point of choosing the most secluded table she could find. Now, as Merlin’s voice began to rise in volume, she began to think that staying at home would have been a more sensible option.

Lance nodded quietly, making a face that implied he was not happy about the fact he w as going to have to carry Merlin across Albion to the flat at this rate. Merlin was a terrible lightweight; Gwen had only intended to get him mildly tipsy so that he’d feel more like sharing what was going on in his head, but somewhere between drinks three and four Merlin had disintegrated into a grumbling mess.

“Merlin,” Gwen said gently, reaching out to take one of his hands. Her heart sank when he looked up at her with sadness radiating from his eyes. “Sweetheart, I know you haven’t told me anything in detail, but you said it went okay. You said you’d met some brilliant people.”

“I did,” Merlin tried to smile slightly but ended up squinting. “Morgana. I love Morgana. I love you  _more_ ,” he patted Gwen sloppily on the hand, “so don’t worry about that. But she said she wanted to fall in love with me.”

Lance had appeared with the water just as Merlin ha d spoken. He almost spilled the contents of the glass all over Merlin’s head in surprise. He looked at Gwen and she motioned for him to sit down quickly.

“Morgana said she wanted to fall in love with you?” Gwen asked as calmly as she could, looking around to make sure nobody was in earshot.

“Yes,” he slurred, waving his right hand around. “But she said it wouldn’t work out. And it wouldn’t, Gwen. It wouldn’t.”

“No,” Gwen looked slightly appalled at the words coming out of Merlin’s mouth. “Merlin, drink some water.”

Merlin did as he was instructed and Gwen waited for him to finish half the glass before removing it from his fingers.

“Gwen,” Merlin whispered, “Lance is really handsome.”

Lance’s face reddened and Gwen tried to stifle the giggle that desperately wanted to escape. “Yes, I know that, thank you.”

“He’s really handsome and you’re really pretty,” Merlin’s smile was dopey. “You’re both lovely. Get married an’ have lots of lovely babies.”

“Okay, I’ll bear that it mind,” Gwen avoided catching Lance’s eye.

“But Arthur’s handsome too,” Merlin looked pained to admit this. Although he was floating in a drunken haze he couldn’t fail to miss the way Gwen’s eyebrows arched impossibly and Lance choked slightly on the drink he was trying to swallow. “And Gwaine too. But I have messy hair and big ears. And they’re not lovely like you.”

“Okay, I really can’t process this,” Gwen stood up and slipped her jacket on. “Lance, we need to get him home.  _Now_.”

“Come on, Merlin,” he pulled his friend to his feet and tried to bundle him into his duffle coat. He managed quite well, even if the toggles weren’t tied correctly and gave the overall impression of Merlin listing to the left.

“Gwen,” Merlin was whispering as they stumbled towards the exit, looking horribly sad once more. “Arthur said I was ‘disgustingly normal’.”

Gwen was suddenly overcome with anger. How  _dare_  Arthur insult kind, sweet, wonderful Merlin? “Yeah, well Prince Arthur’s a Royal arse!” Gwen snapped, and then tripped slightly as she stumbled into someone. “Sorry! Sorry, not paying attention.”

If she’d paid a bit more attention she would have noticed that the woman she ran into didn’t look anything like a student. She also would have stopped to thank her lucky stars that the woman only caught that one line.

But she hadn’t, and she didn’t. And there’d be hell to pay for that later.

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin woke the next morning feeling like a squirrel had curled up in his mouth. He rolled onto his back and glared up at the ceiling. He was going to kill Gwen.

When he eventually made it into the kitchen Gwen and Lance were already sitting at the table. They were looking at him in concern.  _Oh my God_ , his stomach plummetedas he remembered babbling at his friends for an age when they finally made it back from the Union. He’d told them everything that had happened at Sandringham. He’d told them about Gwaine. He’d told them about  _Arthur_.

“Can we skip the part where you show me lots of concern for acting like an idiot last night?” Merlin grumbled as he shuffled into a chair, grateful for the glass of orange juice and two paracetamol that Gwen placed in front of him.

“Merlin, “ Gwen trailed off with a shrug. “I don’t know wh at to say. I…”

“Maybe you shouldn’t go to this party,” Lance shrugged. “Perhaps you should cut all ties with them.”

“But I don’t want to, Lance,” Merlin was aware he sounded a little petulant. “I like Morgana, a lot. And Elena too. Before last week I just had you two and  _Will_  on a list entitled ‘Merlin’s Only Friends’, but it’s got a bit longer now, and I want to keep it that way.”

Gwen smiled a little like she would rather cry instead but was only holding it together for Merlin’s sake. “So Arthur definitely won’t be at the party?”

“No,” Merlin shook his head. “Morgana said he’s got to go to some official event with the King.”

“And this Duke? Er, Gwaine?” Lance tried. “He won’t be there either?”

“According to Morgana he’s already go t plans,” Merlin scrunched his nose up in an attempt to lessen the headache he was experiencing. “It’ll be fun. Morgana’s very good at getting people to have fun.”

Eight hours later Merlin would discover that Morgana was also very good at lying.

 

**ooOOoo**

“Merlin Emrys,” Merlin stated his name nervously as two very burly doormen gave him the once over. “Morga-  _Her Royal Highness, The Princess Royal_  added our names yesterday. This is Gwen Smith and Lance Du Lac.”

The doorman with the clipboard looked at them for a long moment. Merlin spotted Morgana’s bodyguard, Elyan, standing further up the corridor and raised his hand to wave before he realised what he was doing. Elyan gave a very small wave back and this seemed to speed up the process of getting in. The door to the ballroom was opened for them and they were immediately confronted with a spectacle so lavish Merlin had to pinch himself to make sure it was real.

“Merlin!” Morgana was suddenly beaming at him and floating towards him a floor length black gown. She embraced him happily, not standing on any sort of ceremony. “I’m so glad you came.” She stepped back and smiled widely at Gwen and Lance.

“Oh!” Merlin jumped into action. “These are my friends, Gwen and Lance.”

Gwen bobbed into a strange half-curtsey and Morgana laughed delightedly. “Gwen, please,” she reached out her hand gently to stop Gwen’s descent. “You are here as a honoured guest, please just enjoy yourself. Any friend of Merlin’s must be wonderful, so it is  _I_ who should be nervous.”

“Your party is beautiful,” Gwen gushed when she had given up blushing.

“Do you think so?” Morgana asked, surveying the room critically. “We’ve got fewer people here than last year, but our fundraising target is much higher. The ticket sales haven’t made up the amount needed yet so we’re hoping for some donations tonight.”

“I’m sure you'll receive some,” Gwen’s eyes were still wide as she took in the elaborate ice carving of a castle in the centre of the room. “Everything looks wonderful.”

“Gwen, I think I should like to get to know you better,” Morgana smiled and Merlin was sure Gwen was going to faint. “And your lovely man as well. Come and have a drink, and I can introduce you to some of the less boring guests.”

“Wow,” was all Gwen managed to squeak before pulling herself together with a cough. “That sounds great.”

“Oh, Merlin,” Morgana turned as she began to lead Gwen and Lance away. “Arthur’s over there by the chamber orchestra. Go and keep him out of trouble.”

The look of horror on Merlin’s face was an absolute picture (according to Gwen when he cornered her later) as Morgana smiled innocently at him. His gaze wandered to where Morgana was pointing and sure enough there was Arthur casually leaning against the wall; he seemed to sense Merlin’s eyes because he turned, straightening quickly.

_Well there goes the option of sneaking out._

Morgana flashed him a quick smile and almost pushed a confused Gwen and Lance into the throng of guests before them.

Merlin feigned nonchalance; he stuck his hands in his pockets and looked around the room as if he were interested in the many things he could see that were not blond, well-dressed and looking  _slightly_  apologetic as they strode towards him.

“Merlin,” Arthur said sounding as though it was taking quite a lot of effort not to insult him.

“Your Royal Highness,” Merlin ducked his head with a grimace.

“That’s not funny, Merlin.” The smile Arthur pasted on his face as some guests walked by looked strained.

“I wasn’t joking,  _Sire_.” All of Merlin’s anger from the beach had returned, particularly because he was still feeling embarrassed about spouting drunken praise for Arthur’s jawline to his flatmate the night before. He looked down at his shoes and breathed hard.

“Merlin,” Arthur said quietly, and Merlin’s head shot back up at the deflated tone. “Can I just talk to you for a second?”

“Are you going to insult me again?”

Arthur bit his lip and seemed to brace himself. “I’m…sorry. I’m  _sorry_ ,” he shrugged slightly. “I’m terrible at talking to people. I’m even worse at apologising.” He laughed self-deprecatingly and Merlin suddenly understood how difficult this was for Arthur. Merlin was sure he only had a small group of friends, but he was willing to bet that Arthur had fewer.

“That’s ‘cause you're a prat.” Merlin deadpanned.

Arthur looked dismayed until he realised that Merlin was grinning slightly. “Don’t be an idiot, Merlin.” He frowned slightly. “I didn’t mean what I said to you. Not really. Apart from the bit about obligations. I meant that bit.”

Merlin felt a small fluttering in his chest when he was sure Arthur’s eyes drifted to his lips for a split second. “I understand.”

“I’m not quite sure you do,” Arthur said softly.

Whatever Merlin intended to say in reply was cut off with a shout from the door. “Princess!”

Merlin and Arthur both turned to face the owner of the voice.

It appeared Morgana had lied.  _Again_.

* * *

“This was the night Arthur met Sophia Tirmor again wasn’t it?” Morgause smiled.

Merlin fought back the sick feeling that had settled in his stomach at that name. “Yes. I was just getting to that.”


	13. Chapter 13

“Merlin, you are fully aware of the interest that surrounded the relationship between Prince Arthur and Miss Tirmor.” There was a glint of something cruel in Morgause’s countenance and Merlin was again certain that she knew more about the Arthur/Sophia debacle than what had been (quite heavily) reported in the press.

“It was hard to miss,” Merlin aimed for diplomatic. There had been almost daily pictures of the pair on gossip sites and in magazines when the relationship was at its height.

“ _Some_ journalists accused you of not supporting your friend in his romantic endeavours,” Morgause shifted so that she was leaning towards Merlin once more. “With a few even suggesting that you were responsible for the eventual breakup.”

 _They were right_ , Merlin thought _, I **was** responsible. Just not in the way they think…_

“That couldn’t be further from the truth,” Merlin said. He subtly tightened his hand over his right knee as he felt it begin to tingle with nerves. He didn’t like talking about Sophia, even after Clarence House had briefed him to within an inch of his life about what he could and could not say. “Sophia and Arthur’s relationship reached its natural conclusion when Sophia made the decision to accept an offer to study abroad for her final year.” _Very, **very** abroad. And not really with much studying._

“But we’re getting ahead of ourselves,” Morgause nodded at him, challenge still evident in her eyes. “I believe you were about to tell me about how the Prince and Miss Tirmor met for the first time in their  _adult_  lives at the Princess Royal’s party…”

* * *

“Merlin!” Gwaine grinned as he spotted him.

“What’s he doing here?” Arthur was still speaking quietly as he looked at Merlin in a vaguely-accusatory manner.

“I don’t know,” Merlin whispered back, his heart still stammering slightly as he filed away the look that had graced Arthur’s face before Gwaine arrived. “Morgana said he wasn’t coming. Then again, she also said  _you_ weren’t coming.” He regretted the words the instant they had left his mouth as Arthur’s mouth tightened into a grim line.

“Nice party!” Gwaine had reached them and was smiling widely. He pulled Merlin into a one-armed hug before extending a hand to Arthur. Merlin noted that although Arthur accepted the offering he looked anything but gracious about it.

“Gwaine,” Arthur looked like he’d just swallowed a lemon. “This is a surprise.”

“What can I say?” Gwaine ran a hand through his hair as he looked around. “I had other plans, but your sister said my name was on the list if I changed my mind.”

“She did?” Arthur nodded, looking a little manic as he pursed his lips again. “That’s very…. _generous of her_.”

“Yeah…” Gwaine eyed Arthur warily. “I see neither of you boys has a drink. I’ll go get us some. None of that bubbly crap, though.” He rolled his eyes at Merlin before he sauntered off towards the bar.

“Right,” Arthur seemed to come to a decision. “Merlin, if you wouldn’t mind coming with me.” Arthur’s voice was still quiet, but his accompanying grip on Merlin’s arm was anything but gentle. “Just for a minute.”

“Wha-‘ was all Merlin managed before he was steered towards a door at the far end of the ballroom where Leon, dressed in a dinner suit, was watching his Princely charge questioningly.

“Leon,” Arthur’s smile was grim. “We’ll only be a moment.”

Leon looked to Merlin who just shrugged in bewilderment. “Right,” he opened the door. “Of course, Arthur.”

Arthur pulled Merlin into the much smaller anteroom quickly and shut the door behind them.

“Arthur, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Merlin asked, rubbing his arm when Arthur released him.

Arthur was silent for a long moment as he turned away from Merlin. He put his arms out to rest his palms flat against the wall, his back taut in an arch as his head dropped forward. “I have no idea.”

He’d spoken so softly Merlin wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t imagined the words. “Arthur?”

Arthur whirled around suddenly, gripping his hands together. “I  _always_  know what I’m doing, Merlin.  _Always_.”

“Okay. That’s…good?” Merlin’s brows knitted as he tried to work out why Arthur was telling him this. “Listen, Gwen and Lance might be looking for me, and Gwaine is probably wondering where we’ve got to.”

Arthur pouted slightly. “I’m trying to tell you something,  _Mer_ lin.”

“Well, could you be a little less cryptic about it?” Merlin rolled his eyes.

Arthur was within an arm’s length of Merlin in two strides, and Merlin just about managed to resist the urge to take a step back at the sudden intimacy of the situation.

“Merlin, I’m the Prince of Wales,” Arthur stated quietly.

“I hadn’t noticed,” Merlin was tr ying to diffuse the tension, but his comment came out slightly more breathily than he’d intended.

Arthur twitched slightly, but continued without comment. “With that position comes very specific obligations. My primary allegiance is, and  _always will be_ , to the people of this Kingdom, and I must ensure that I only ever act in their best interests. What  _I_ desire is unimportant.” His gaze flickered across Merlin’s face.

 _Oh dear God. Oh God! Oh. My. GOD!_ Merlin was screaming internally, with all the articulacy of a thirteen year old. Was this what he thought it was?  _Christ, was Arthur, **Arthur Pendragon, Crown Prince of the Commonwealth Realm** , suggesting what Merlin thought (hoped/kind of  **desperately wished** ) he was suggesting?_

“But I am also…”Arthur trailed off and ran his hands over his face. This was the slig htly wrong-footed Arthur that Merlin had seen a couple of times now, so different than his public portrayal of the confident Prince.

Merlin couldn’t bring himself to interrupt.

“I’m also just Arthur.” The words were released in a rush and he looked horrified that he’d said actually them aloud. “Arthur -who isn’t very good at admitting when he’s not right.”

“You mean  _wrong_ ,” Merlin whispered before he could stop himself.

Arthur’s small laugh was more a huff of breath accompanied by a slight quirk of his lips. “Yes. When I’m  _wrong_.” He took another deep breath. “ And I was wrong to behave so appallingly to you the other day. Forgive me.”

Merlin smiled slightly, despite his trepidation. It felt a little like being apologised to by Mr Darcy, or Colin Firth.

“Merlin, I want you to know…” Arthur dropped his head. “You are not…  _disgustingly normal_.” He looked ashamed of himself. “It was wrong of me to say that, when you are, in fact…quite the opposite.”

Merlin clamped his teeth together in an effort to refrain from looking like a goldfish.

“I cannot say everything I wish to,” Arthur’s voice had dropped impossibly lower. “My duty to the people, to my family, to my  _father_  impedes me from doing so.” He reached out and ran his fingers lightly over Merlin’s wounded arm.

Merlin didn’t have to force himself to remain still. Every muscle in his body had gone into complete lockdown.

“Just know that…although nothing can…” He trailed off once more and retracted his hand. Merlin didn’t suppose it was too much of a leap of his imagination to hear the  _happen between us_  that went unspoken at the end of Arthur’s sentence. “I would be proud to call you my friend.”

“Friend,” Merlin breathed, his throat tight around the word.

Arthur nodded silently and unconsciously raised a hand to his chest briefly as though he was protecting his heart. Merlin understood, of course he did. It didn’t mean he  _wanted_ to though.

“Merlin, I barely know you,” Arthur whispered still. “But…there’s something about you.”

Merlin sighed. “You said that before.”

“And it remains the case.” Arthur nodded once more before taking a step backwards.

Merlin shivered slightly as he felt the loss of Arthur’s proximity. Arthur was staring at him imploringly and although his heart clenched at his next words he knew they were the right ones. “I already am your friend, Arthur. I’m  _happy_  to be your friend.”

Arthur took a deep breath and as he exhaled Merlin saw an invisible burden lift from him. “Thank you, Merlin.”

Merlin didn’t know whether he wanted to cry or just feel grateful that he was allowed to see this rare glimpse of the real Arthur. However, sense and reason finally took hold, returning from where Arthur’s warmth had sent them scattering, and Merlin sensed deep within his bones that he had to accept this. He felt like his magic was embracing him consolingly, but still pushing him towards any kind of bond with Arthur. Merlin was overcome with the sense that whereas Arthur had an obligation to his Kingdom, Merlin had a predestined obligation to Arthur. This was quite surprising considering Merlin had never been one for believing in Destiny. But that was before…

Arthur closed his eyes for a long moment and straighte ned his spine. When his lashes parted he gave Merlin a tentative smile.

Merlin smiled back, allowing the warmth of his magic to strengthen his resolve. He’d take what he could get when it came to Arthur, even if he didn’t really comprehend  _why_. “Drink?”

Arthur nodded, his grin widening. “I think that’s probably a very good idea.” He moved towards the door.

“Arthur,” Merlin’s hand flew from his side and grasped Arthur’s hand as he passed. They both stared at their entwined fingers for a long moment before Merlin squeezed gently and let go.

Arthur seemed to understand what Merlin was trying to convey, even if Merlin himself wasn’t exactly sure what that was.

 

**ooOOoo**

So it was no wonder that Merlin was  _very_  surprised to find himself laughing later on that evening.

After he and Arthur had returned to the party, Merlin had been sure that Arthur would have made his excuses to be elsewhere; he was the Prince of Wales, it’s not as though there was ever a shortage of people who wanted to speak to him. But here he was, nearly two hours later, with Arthur animatedly regaling Merlin’s friends, including Elena - who had finally arrived after some sort of incident that involved her ripping her original dress-, and  _Gwaine,_ with a story about a Latin master at Eton; complete with commentary from Lance. Merlin was profoundly grateful for Arthur’s company, it eased his soul slightly to know that they could laugh together.

“Do you remember how he used to shout ‘DECLENSIONS’ across the quad?” Lance threw his head back with a laugh.

“And  _every_  single time he saw Toady Rodmoore!” Arthur grinned at the memory.

“You went to school with someone called  _Toady_?” Merlin shook his head.

Arthur rolled his eyes, but there was a palpable hint of fondness there now that Merlin hadn’t spotted before. “Of course not,  _Mer_ lin. His real name was Tarquin.”

“But he looked like a toad!” Lance chuckled and Gwen shook her head pityingly at her boyfriend.

“Okay, boys,” Morgana gave them a stern look, but everyone could see she was amused. “That’s enough Eton stories for a lifetime.”

“Shouldn’t you be  _circulating_ , Morgana?” Arthur gave his sister a dry look. “Or whatever it is that you do at these things to get them all to give lots of money to all your charities.”

“What a  _good idea_ , Arthur,” Morgana smiled.

Arthur’s posture shifted slightly, but Merlin caught it. He bit the inside of his lip to keep from laughing as he watched Arthur try to work out why his sister was beaming at him.

“Excuse us, everyone,” Morgana looked around at the small group. “My brother and I need to go charm a few people. Come along, Arthur.” Before he could protest she had his arm in a vice-like grip (Merlin recognised it from Christmas Eve) and was pulling him towards a group of grumpy looking men.

“Is it wrong for me to be pleased that the fact Arthur’s a man means Morgana is only  _second_  in line?” Gwaine asked Merlin. “If she ever becomes Queen I’m leaving the country. Immediately.”

Merlin laughed as Gwaine smirked.

“Merlin?” Gwen’s fingers were on his wris t. “Can I borrow you for just one second?”

“Okay,” he replied slowly.

“We’ll be right back,” she smiled at Lance and Gwaine. “Lance, could you get us some more drinks? And maybe some of those little sundried tomato things that keep being whizzed past me on trays?” She didn’t wait for a reply, just hauled Merlin towards the edge of the room where the crowd was less dense.

“Are you alright?” she asked quietly. “It’s just, you looked horrified when you saw the Prince earlier, and now here you are laughing at everything he says. And he’s teasing you and clapping you on the back like you’re friends”

“We are,” Merlin shrugged. “We spoke. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. It’s  _good_  actually. Well, sort of…”

“ Merlin-“

“Not here, Gwen,” he held up hi s hand. “I promise I’ll tell you. Just not right now.”

“And Gwaine?”

“What about him?”

“Merlin, you’re not blind,” Gwen hissed with a knowing look. “And neither am I. Look, I know we don’t usually talk about you and relationships, because you always shrug me off-“

“Because there’s nothing to say!”

“ _But_ ,” Gwen ignored him, “I feel it’s my duty as your friend to point out that there’s a man over there, falling all over himself to talk to you. Well,  _two_  of them actually, by the looks of things-“

“Gwen,” Merlin warned as a couple of people walked by close to where they were standing. “Please can we not talk about  _duty_?”

Gwen frowned, searching his face. Something must have shown because she exhaled a s oft “ _Oh_.”

“Can we just go back to having fun?” Merlin pleaded.  _That way I don’t have to deal with my brain and my feelings having an argument._

“Merlin?” Gwen looked so heartbroken for him that Merlin wanted to wrap his arms around her and never let go.

He ducked down so he could see her properly. “It’s okay Gwen.  _Really_.”

“What are you going to do about-“ she tilted her head towards where Gwaine was laughing with Elena.”

“Nothing,” he shook his head vehemently. “He’s a massive flirt, Gwen. He flirted with  _you_  earlier, so it’s not like it makes me special.”

“Merlin,” Gwen frowned as she selected her words carefully, “I think the fact that he’s still hanging around should suggest something to you. There’s plenty of people around for him to flirt with, but he keeps talking to you.”

“Only to wind Arthur up,” Merlin muttered.

“No,” Gwen shook her head, “I don’t think it’s that. Not really.”

“Gwen, please just leave it alone,” Merlin sighed, “I know you’re trying to help, and I appreciate it,  _I do,_  but it’s been a really weird couple of weeks and I just want everything to go back to being normal for a while.”

“Says the boy who has a growing list of nobility to call his friends,” she smiled. This was her peace offering.

“Says the girl who’s been giggling with a  _Princess_ all night,” Merlin retorted.

“Okay, fine,” Gwen rolled her eyes. “I trust your judgment. Just make sure you keep me up to date – I don’t want to be the last to find out you’re being c ourted by a queue of eligible young Peers.”

“Gwen!” Merlin mumbled in embarrassment. “That’s it! I’m taking you back to Lance. Right now!”

Gwen allowed herself to be tugged across the room, laughing as they stumbled together.

“Alright, Merlin?” Gwaine asked with a lopsided smile as he handed him a glass.

“What’s this?” Merlin sniffed the concoction and rounded on Lance immediately. “Lance! Is this  _bourbon_?”

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin sipped his glass of water as Gwen leaned tiredly against his shoulder, the New Year well and truly welcomed. “I think we need to get you home,” he spoke gently to her as they watched Lance and Gwaine try to dance with Elena to an orchestral arrangement of a Smiths song.

“Merlin,” Gwen laughed softly. “I’m happy to live on this sofa for the rest of my life. I don’t need to go anywhere.”

“Whilst I’m sure I’d agree,” Merlin sank further into the soft cushions, “actually,  _God,_ I do agree. I think the hotel management wouldn’t take too kindly to us deciding to –Oh, Gwen, Morgana’s heading this way!”

Gwen snapped to attention immediately, she wasn’t going to be seen dozing at the Princess Royal’s party. No matter how tired she was.

“Merlin! Gwen!” Morgana smiled as the two ros e to greet her. “Happy New Year.” She gave them both hugs pausing to kiss Merlin’s cheek quickly. “I’m sorry we disappeared earlier. People to captivate and enchant until they reached for their chequebooks, you know.”

“Did you raise much more?” Gwen asked.

“ _Much_  more,” Morgana grinned. “Although, I had to do most of the charming on my own as Arthur got stuck in the anteroom with an old acquaintance of Uther’s.”

“Oh?” Merlin asked, trying not to sound too interested. He’d been looking out for Arthur for the last hour or so and hadn’t spotted him. He decidedly did not want to look at the anteroom Morgana was gesturing to. He’d been there already tonight.

“Yes,” Morgana sighed. “Aulfric was at Albion with Uther years ago; we used to have to play with his horrible daughter when they visited. H e seemed really keen to catch up with Arthur. And you know what Arthur’s like about duty.” She frowned slightly as she saw a look pass between Merlin and Gwen. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Merlin said quickly. “Well, at least you didn’t have to invite the horrible daughter!”

“Sadly, I  _did_ ,” Morgana grimaced. “Thankfully I’ve yet to bump into her. Apparently she was at another party earlier in the evening.” She curled her lips in distaste as if to suggest that no other parties were worth bothering with.

Gwen covered her mouth as she yawned. “I’m so sorry!”

Lance saw from where he was dancing and motioned for Elena and Gwaine to follow him away from the dance floor.

Morgana laughed. “Don’t be. I could have fallen in to bed hours ago. In fact, I might go and retrieve Arthur and tell him we’r e leaving now. Where are you all staying again?”

“Lance’s parents’ house,” Gwen smiled. “They live in Hampstead, so if we can get a taxi it’s only fifteen minutes.”

“We can use my car,” Gwaine announced.

“Gwaine, you’ve practically consumed a distillery!” Merlin threw his hands up.

“Thanks, Merlin,” Gwen grinned and gave him a thumbs up. “You and the Princess – not  _you_  Morgana –both love to state the obvious, don’t you? I wasn’t suggesting  _I drive_. The whole being a Duke thing is useful because I can do this.” He reached into his suit jacket, which had been discarded next to Gwen before the dancing started, and pulled out a phone. He pressed the screen a few times and held it up to his ear. “Sid? Yeah, how long do you need to get back here? Okay, call me when you’re outside. Cheers.”

“Did you just call your  _driver_?” Merlin couldn’t hold back a snort of laughter.

“Hey,” Gwaine grinned. “I have to make use of this ridiculous title I’ve got sometimes. He’ll be here in ten minutes.”

“I should go and find Arthur,” Morgana nodded. “You shouldn’t leave until he’s said goodbye to you all.”

“Princess Morgana!”

Morgana turned to see an elderly couple walking towards her, both smiling. “Lord Atmere, Lady Atmere. How  _are_  you?” She beamed graciously as they got closer. She turned quickly to her friends and hissed. “Someone else needs to go and find Arthur. Lord Atmere hasn’t donated yet.”

Everyone looked expectantly at Merlin. “Oh,  _right_ , I get it,” Merlin huffed. “I save the prat’s life and now I’m delivering messages to him. T hanks, everyone.” He shook his head when they all grinned at him and began to walk towards Leon.

“Merlin!” Leon grinned as he approached. “Come to rescue Arthur again?”

“Something like that, “ Merlin laughed. “Can I go in, or do I have to wait to be announced or something?”

Leon chuckled. “Go right ahead. He’s just talking to some old family friends and, between you and me,” Leon lowered his voice, “Arthur’s never liked them very much.”

The door opened and the smile fell from his face. An older gentleman, who Merlin assumed was Aulfric, who had been leaning against the fireplace had turned to face him in surprise.

“Who are you?” Aulfric asked coldly.

Merlin didn’t answer. Not because he didn’t hear Aulfric, and not because he had decided to ignore him. No, Merlin did n’t answer because he seemed to have lost the ability to form words as he took in the scene before him.

Arthur was staring adoringly at a girl who was clasping his hands. She was smiling beatifically up at the Prince as he whispered things to her that were too quiet for Merlin to hear.

“Merlin! Have you found Arth-“ Her brother’s name died on Morgana’s lips as she appeared next to Merlin.

“Morgana!” Aulfric stepped towards her, leering in a way that made Gwaine look like a saint.

Morgana briefly placed her hand on Merlin’s back, fingers splayed across his shoulder blades.  _I’ll fix this,_ her touch seemed to say, before she let go and moved into the room. “Aulfric. What’s going on?” She was trying to keep her voice light but her gaze was fixed stonily on Arthur and the girl, who had still not reacted to anyone else’s presence. p>

Aulfric smiled warmly at his daughter and the Prince. “Prince Arthur and Sophia are just getting reacquainted,” he smirked. “They seem to be getting on very well indeed.”

“As true as that may be,” Morgana smiled tightly, “it is time for my brother to leave. We have early engagements in the morning.”

“Of course,” Aulfric said calmly, but Merlin who could finally no longer look at Arthur, saw only flint in his eyes. “Sophia, darling.”

Sophia looked over at her father and let go of Arthur’s hands with a sigh. Arthur immediately reached for her again, until she whispered something softly to him and he smiled, nodding as she walked away.

“We will take our leave,” Aulfric bowed slightly to Morgana. “Thank you for being such a gracious host, Your Royal Highness.”

The smirk on So phia’s face as she dropped into a small curtsey was obvious to both Merlin and Morgana. Her eyes lingered on Merlin for far longer than he was comfortable with. She turned back towards Arthur, who was still smiling at her in reverence. “Goodbye, Arthur. For now.”

Her voice was breathy and weak, and Merlin had never hated a voice as much, not even  _Vivian’s_. He concentrated on remaining upright, feeling sick to his stomach and suddenly drained. His hands shook as he balled them into fists.

Morgana slammed the door violently as soon as Aulfric and Sophia had crossed the ballroom. “Arthur, what the  _fuck_  are you doing?”

Merlin was ripped out of his inertia by the surprise of Morgana - beautiful, well spoken,  _Princess_  Morgana - swearing at her brother.

“Morgana,” Arthur smiled stupidly. “What a surprise to see you here.” He sauntered over, swaying slightly, and wrapped his arms around his sister. He looked delighted when he pulled away and noticed Merlin. “And Merlin too!”

Merlin stepped away before Arthur could touch him, his back connecting solidly with the door.

“Arthur?” Morgana had switched from incensed to concerned and was watching her brother carefully.

“I have wonderful news,” Arthur grinned triumphantly at both of them. “I am in love.”

Merlin paled.

Morgana laughed. “You’re in  _love_?”

“With Sophia,” Arthur sighed. “We have such a special connection. I cannot believe I’ve managed to live so long without her.”

“Quite,” Morgana frowned as Arthur dropped heavily into a leather armchair. She looked at Merlin pointedly and raised her eyebrows. “Is he  _drunk_?”

“I don’t know,” Merlin whispered. He was shaking his head and couldn’t seem to stop. Morgana curled her hand around his wrist. “How can he…”

“Merlin?” She asked softly. “Has something happened?”

He could only give her a bereft glance in reply.

Morgana’s eyes widened in surprise, as she drew her own conclusions about what that meant. She looked ready to kill Arthur when she fixed him with another glare. “Arthur Pendragon, stand up this instant!”

Arthur, suitably surprised by Morgana’s tone jumped to his feet and stared at her slightly abashed. It would have been hilarious if Merlin didn’t feel like he’d just been punched.

Morgana shook her head disdainfully at Arthur and reached out her hand for the doorknob. “Merlin,” she said quietly, “ I think you should find the others and leave. I’ll sort  _him_  out. Can we meet tomorrow?”

“We’ve got to get back to Albion,” Merlin muttered, his eyes to the ground. “Our train leaves at twelve.”

“I’ll call you in the morning,” she squeezed his hand again as she opened the door. “I think we need to have a conversation. A  _real_ one.”

Merlin dejectedly walked past Leon, not managing to muster a smile. Gwaine hurried up to him as he looked around for his friends.

“Merlin!” Gwaine dropped his hand on to his shoulder and Merlin didn’t even flinch. “The car’s outside. Gwen, Lance and Elena are already out there.” Gwaine seemed to actually  _see_  Merlin for the first time since he reappeared. “Christ, Merlin, what’s wrong?”

Merlin didn’t say anything. He was getting good at t hat.

Gwaine led him to the car with no further questions, his fingers tight on his shoulder the whole time. When Elena opened her mouth to ask what was wrong Gwaine silenced her with a pointed look, Lance too. Thankfully Gwen was already asleep, otherwise Merlin knew she’d somehow wheedle the story out of him.

After detouring around Hyde Park to drop Elena in Knightsbridge they reached Hampstead in silence. Lance half-carried a dozing Gwen into the house, but Gwaine stopped Merlin from following them by taking his arm once more.

“Merlin,” Gwaine’s breath condensed in the chilly early-morning air. “I don’t really know what’s going on with you and the Princess.” Merlin still didn’t say anything. “Quite frankly, if there  _is_ something going on, I don’t really want to know about it.”

“Where’s this going, Gwaine?” Merlin sighed tiredly, running his hand over his chin.

“I know it’s not a good time,” Gwaine replied, looking somewhat awkward (Merlin later suspected this was the first time in his life Gwaine had employed that expression). “But, you’ve been driving me a bit crazy since Christmas.” He scratched his head self-consciously and frowned a little at his own words. “I just wanted to say that if you and the Princess  _aren’t_ actually…you know…”

Merlin wanted to be annoyed with Gwaine for being insensitive. But this was  _Gwaine_  and Merlin would have been surprised if he’d been completely sympathetic. The fact that the usually confident man looked terribly unsure of himself for a moment endeared him just a little more to Merlin.

“Let me take you out for a drink,” Gwaine said, ten backpedalled a little. “Not right now,  _obviously_. Not even soon, if you don’t want to. But just let me make up for being a bit of a pillock recently.”

Merlin considered the man before him. “Goodnight, Gwaine,” he replied finally and walked past him towards the Du Lac front door. He turned at the last minute to see Gwaine watching him, frowning.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Gwaine bobbed his head and opened the car door. “Fair enough. Happy New Year, Merlin.”

“Gwaine, wait,” Merlin hissed. “Can you just, I don’t know, pick a better time to ask me?”

“I’ll do that,” Gwaine said seriously after a long moment. “Now go inside before Lance comes out and murders me for lowering the tone of his parents’ street.”

Merlin laughed slightly despite himself and quietly let himself into the house, closing the door softly behind him.

* * *

“There were quite a few witnesses who saw both Sophia and Arthur looking quite smitten towards the end of the evening,” Morgause stared pointedly at Merlin. “Although apparently nobody actually saw them together.”

“And?” Merlin asked. It was too forceful, barked out in the heat of a memory.

“And…” Morgause trailed off with a shrug. “I suppose all I’m asking is did  _you_  see them together that evening?”

“No, I did not,” Merlin replied icily.

* * *

His phone rang when it was still dark outside. The number was withheld but he answered anyway, hissing a whispered ‘Hello’ into the handset as he almost fell off the sofa he’d been sleeping on.

“Merlin?”

Merlin sat up in surprise as Morgana’s voice shook over the phone. “Morgana? What is it? What’s wrong?” His heart was pounding against his ribs as he listened to her quiet sobs. “Oh my God, is it Arthur?”

“Merlin, I had a  _dream_ ,” Morgana cried brokenly.

“A dream?” he asked quietly, allowing himself to relax a little. “Do you want to talk about it, Morgana?”

“Oh, Merlin,” she sniffled. “This wasn’t a normal dream.”

“Morgana, what do you want me to do?” He asked, not unkindly.

“I know it’s really early.” His watch told him it was ten past six. “But you could come round?”

“Morgana, I don’t think th-“

“ _Please?_ ”

 

**ooOOoo**

It took Merlin fifteen minutes to scribble a note to Lance and hurry up Hampstead High Street and down into the depths of the tube station. The platform was entirely deserted and Merlin almost collapsed in relief when a train finally turned up – for a horrible moment he’d thought there would be nothing running as everyone was still sleeping off their New Year’s Eve parties.

He didn’t meet a single soul, not even when he switched to the Central Line at Tottenham Court Road. It was eerie and didn’t make Merlin feel any better about what he was heading towards. Morgana had told him she was at her official residence in Kensington Palace and that Elyan would ensure he was admitted.

Elyan, in fact, was waiting on the platform for him.

“Merlin,” Elyan nodded. “Thank you for coming at such short notice.”

“I’m not sure I’m going to be much help,” Merlin.

“Princess Morgana seems to think you will be.”

There was no more conversation after that; the roads outside of the station were silent and Merlin allowed himself to be ushered into a car. With a brief security stop at the imposing entrance to Kensington Palace Gardens the drive only lasted a few minutes.

Merlin was so tired he barely noticed his surroundings; he was dimly aware of this place being much grander even than Sandringham, but less imposing at the same time. Elyan opened a door and ushered him into a room lit by a single lamp next to where Morgana was pacing.

“Elyan, please leave us,” Morgana said quietly.

Merlin received a small nod from the other man as he let himself out of the room.

Morgana crossed the room in a flurry of dressing gown to grasp his hands and throw her arms around his neck. He flinched as his injury protested to the rough treatment, but he didn’t pull away. He was worried as he took in her countenance when she pulled away and motioned for him to take a seat; he’d never seen Morgana look so dishevelled – her eyes were red and puffy and her hair was in disarray. Added to that the fact she was wearing a dressing gown in his presence and Merlin was very worried indeed.

“Morgana, you need to tell me what’s wrong,” Merlin said quietly after a few minutes of her staring fixedly at a spot on the wall.

“Merlin, I think Arthur’s going to die.”

Her words were little more than a puff of breath but they hit Merlin with the full force of a scream. “What do you mean?”

“I saw him drowning, Merlin,” Morgana’s hands were shaking as she swiped at the tears that had begun to roll down her cheeks. “He was dead.”

“Morgana,” he gently took her hands and warmed them between his own. “It was just a dream. Dreams aren’t real.”

She shook her head violently. “Merlin. I  _felt_  everything. I’ve never been so terrified. It felt like a sense something powerful in the air. Like…magic.”

Merlin’s eyes locked on to Morgana’s. “What?”

“I think Sophia has magic. I think she’s going to use it to kill Arthur.”

“Morgana…I…what do you mean you think Sophia has magic?” Merlin was confused; this was a dream, but that didn’t stop the icy tendrils of dread creeping up his spine.

“Sophia was standing over him, Merlin,” Morgana whispered, barely blinking. “Smiling as he disappeared beneath the water. She was speaking, but I didn’t understand the words.”

Merlin didn’t know what to do. Morgana was clearly terrified, but this was only a dream. Wasn’t it? “Morgana, I don’t-“

“Merlin,” she broke out of his grasp and stared at him, “when I brought Arthur back here tonight he couldn’t remember anything about the party before Sophia arrived.”

“Nothing?”

Morgana shook her head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him, Merlin, but I think she’s done something to him.”

“Morgana, if you think Sophia has harmed Arthur you must tell someone. Someone other than me.”

“Who?” she threw her hands up in frustration. “And what would I tell them? Do you think you would be able to sense magic?”

“I don’t know, Morgana,” Merlin sighed. “I didn’t notice anything tonight when I saw… _oh.”_

“Oh?” Morgana asked, searching his face for an answer. “Oh, what?”

“When Sophia left I wasn’t feeling well,” Merlin muttered, trying to clear his mind of all thoughts of Arthur to focus on himself in that moment. “I felt weak for a moment, but I just thought that was because…”He trailed off, unable to finish that thought.

Morgana looked at him. The question obvious in her eyes.

“My magic,” Merlin said quietly, “is a bit temperamental when…um…feelings are involved. Maybe I didn’t notice it was because of her, because I was so focused on…something else.”

“Oh God, Merlin,” Morgana whispered. “What did my idiot brother do to you?”

“Not now, Morgana,” Merlin rose and held out a hand for Morgana. “If you’re right about Sophia then Arthur’s in danger. Is there any way I can see him without him knowing.”

“It’s Arthur,” Morgana shrugged. “H e’ll be dead to the world.” Her face paled as she regretted her poor choice of words. “Follow me.”

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin didn’t know what he was supposed to look for, but had hoped it might become obvious. He was standing in Arthur’s bedroom in the apartment (if you can call a twenty-room residence an apartment) he shared with Morgana when they were in London. The room was so  _Arthur_  that Merlin felt his magic jump under his skin as soon as the door was opened.

“Well?” Morgana hissed.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Morgana,” he whispered back, flinching when Arthur rolled over in his sleep. When she didn’t reply he closed his eyes and focused on the warm feeling in his veins, gold threads appeared in his vision and at Morgana’s gasp he opened his eyes and saw gold beams weaving throughout the room. Shimmering tendrils of light flittered over Arthur where he slept, the touch seeming reverent and protective. Merlin tried to imagine his magic focusing on Arthur, searching for any hint that some thing wasn’t right. He recoiled as angry red flash blossomed up from Arthur’s chest, snapping at his own magic.

He was so startled he lost his concentration and the magic snapped back into him so quickly he stumbled backwards and knocked his head on the doorframe. He stared at the bed, unwilling to breathe in case it woke Arthur, because  _really how do you explain skulking round a Prince’s bedroom in the dark?_ Mercifully, Arthur continued to breathe deeply and Merlin forced himself to look away from the peaceful look making Arthur seem impossibly young.

“Merlin?” Morgana asked quietly, sensing the danger had passed.

“There’s magic, Morgana,” he confirmed and she reached out a hand to steady herself as she took a stumbling step out of the room. Merlin followed shutting the door as quietly as possible.

They walked together in silence until they reached the room they had started in.

“What do we do?” Morgana asked, her eyes wide with fear. “We can’t tell anyone. They wouldn’t believe us.”

“We need to keep Sophia as far away from Arthur as possible,” Merlin said running a hand through his hair. “But that’s going to be difficult as they’ll both be back in Albion together in a few days.”

“We need to make sure he doesn’t leave your sight,” Morgana told him firmly. “You need to keep him safe, Merlin. You’re the only one who can.”

“I need to call someone who might be able to help,” Merlin bit his lip as he thought about how to bring this conversation up with his Godfather.

Morgana nodded as she trembled. “Merlin, he’s all I really have.”

“Morgana I  _swear_  to you,” Merlin put his hand on her arm, sounding far more confident than he felt. “I  _will_  protect Arthur.”

* * *

“Well,” Morgause smirked again, “if you weren’t present for the initial meeting, you were definitely there for the second. There’s undeniable evidence of that.”


	14. Chapter 14

"Well, you did write an article about it,” Merlin spat before he could stop himself. It wouldn’t do to lose his temper now, but Morgause had been one of the ‘journalists’ to cover Arthur’s return to Albion after the assassination attempt, and the first to insinuate that perhaps Merlin wasn’t thrilled with Arthur’s choice of girlfriend.

“Well, of course,” Morgause said as innocently as she could. “It was all very big news. And I wasn’t the only one, Merlin. Prince Arthur had not had a publicly acknowledged girlfriend until that point in his life, so the public demonstration of his attraction to Miss Tirmor couldn’t fail to capture the attention of the media.”

“It was a  _circus_ ,” Merlin balled his fists. “Arthur was hounded by the press,  _despite_  Clarence House asking you all to stay away from Albion.”

“It was in the public interest to follow the story,” Morgause’s cool demeanour cracked slightly and her tone was sharper than Merlin had heard it before. “If the relationship had lasted there was the potential that Miss Tirmor would be the first commoner to marry into the monarchy since the reign of James the Second.”

“They were together for less than three weeks, even if you count the few days between the Princess Royal’s party and Arthur’s return to Albion,” Merlin replied as steadily as possible. “There was no need for the amount of coverage the relationship received.”

Morgause’s face twisted into something cruel and Merlin knew she had him where she wanted him. “At the time, you strenuously denied that you had tried to talk Prince Arthur out of the relationship. Do you stand by your denial?”

On some level he knew this was coming, yet her direct stare still surprised him. “Of course,” Merlin replied levelly. “I wished only that my friend be happy.”

* * *

Keeping tabs on Arthur had not been easy. In the three days Merlin was at Albion before the Prince’s return, Morgana had called him hourly to share her concerns about her brother. She had done her best to confine him to their apartment at Kensington Palace, but she hadn’t been able to stop Arthur contacting Sophia by phone – a newer, and even more  _expensive,_ handset than the one Merlin had destroyed in Meribel had apparently been sourced, much to Morgana’s chagrin.

Merlin had spent the rest of his time on the phone to his Godfather, trying to work out what kind of power Sophia was wielding over Arthur. Apparently  _a lot_ of dark magic could result in the red burst of energy Merlin had seen emanating from Arthur’s chest. Whilst it was obvious that it was some kind of love spell, the depth of Arthur’s infatuation was causing Gaius particular concern, as was the violence with which the spell had ‘snapped’ at Merlin’s own magic.

“Merlin, I must speak with you,” Gaius had sounded worried when he called just before Arthur’s expected arrival in Albion.

Merlin, tugging his hood tighter around his face to ward off the icy rain immediately felt his stomach clench with nerves. “What is it?”

“Has the Prince arrived yet?”

“No,” Merlin shivered as a gust of wind drove rain into his face. He had been loitering by Arthur’s townhouse in the more exclusive part of the small city for the past twenty minutes. Morgana had been texting him updates from the car and they were apparently ‘ten minutes away’ twenty minutes ago. He was fully aware that the members of Arthur’s security team stationed in properties around the Prince’s own were watching him, but nobody had accosted him yet – he probably had Morgana to thank for that. The fact that it was nearly one in the morning and the weather was far worse than had been forecast had probably contributed to the lack of press photographers that Morgana thought might have been waiting to ambush Arthur upon his arrival.

“You must keep him away from that girl, Merlin,” Gaius spoke urgently.

Merlin opened his mouth to tell Gaius he was planning on doing that anyway when Gaius’ addendum of, “If she’s a girl at all” poleaxed him.

“What?” Merlin spluttered, before lowering his voice to a hiss. “What do you mean?”

“You said Sophia’s father was a contemporary of the King’s at Albion,” Gaius spoke calmly, but Merlin could hear the underlying urgency in his tone. “I looked into it and this is definitely the case. However, I was unable to find anything out about his life before his chance meeting with King Uther.”

“How does that help?”

“It doesn’t,” Gaius sighed. “Not on its own. But Tir Mor appears in a number of ancient texts; not as a name, but as a place associated with the powerful magic. It could be a coincidence, but I have a suspicion that Sophia and her father are creatures of this magic; Sidhe to be precise.”

“Sidhe?”

“An immortal race of Avalon,” Gaius replied and Merlin choked slightly at the reference to Avalon. “Yes, Merlin it appears that there might be more than just chance surrounding your meeting with Prince Arthur; it seems that the Legends are perhaps not simply that.”

Merlin categorically did  _not_ want to think about what Gaius was suggesting with that comment. He was  _not_  a wizard in a pointy hat, ruling beside the greatest king the world has ever known; he was Merlin Emrys, lanky (almost) twenty year old from the middle of nowhere, who was inconveniently (and pointlessly) a little besotted with a royal prat (with perhaps a heart of gold).

“If that is the case,” Gaius continued, either oblivious to,  _or ignoring_ , the fact that Merlin was experiencing a mini-breakdown, “and Sophia and her father are not all they seem, then their sudden interest in the Prince should not been taken lightly. It should not been seen as coincidence that they target him, just like the gunman in France, when he is beginning to grow into his role as Crown Prince.”

“Because if Arthur and Sophia marry she’ll end up on the throne eventually? Britain will have a magical Queen?” Merlin asked. He and Morgana had a number of wide-ranging theories, including ‘Sophia’s a gold-digger of epic proportions’. “But that wouldn’t explain why Morgana had that dream.”

“Morgana has never had dreams like this before, but she had never encountered you before. I believe Morgana’s dreams were triggered by proximity to you; your magic reacted so strongly because the threat from Sophia was palpable. I believe Morgana’s dreams are the product of latent magic that has always existed within her; perhaps laying dormant because Arthur has never truly been threatened. I fear it is much worse than Sophia wanting to ascend the throne.”

Merlin’s stomach knotted further into something akin to dread, his thoughts reeling as he tried to take in everything Gaius was explaining. “What is it then?”

“The sidhe are not normally seen by humans,” Gaius replied. “They are creatures of magic and exist in a world  _alongside_  this one, not part of it.”

“But they can make themselves look human?” Merlin asked, craning his neck as he saw headlights appear in the distance.

“No. They would only appear as humans if they were banished from Avalon for a truly grievous crime,” Gaius explained.

“But they still have magic?” Merlin asked.

“Yes,” Gaius replied. “Because there is a way to overturn the decree of banishment.”

“How?” Merlin asked, sure now that the two cars approaching him were related to Arthur.

“A sidhe can be reinstated to their former position in Avalon,” Gaius explained as the two cars pulled up next to Merlin. “They can return to Avalon if they offer a sacrifice.”

“What kind of sacrifice?” Merlin breathed, although he already knew the answer as Leon exited the car and went to open the back door, throwing a quick smile at Merlin.

“A prince, Merlin,” Gaius declared gravely just as Arthur stepped out onto the pavement. “The sidhe must offer up a prince.”

 _Arthur_. Merlin felt magic flare within him, and the phone in his hand emitted a whining sound before sparking slightly in his hand. He dropped it in surprise and it landed in a puddle at his feet.

“What is it with you and phones?”

Merlin looked up to see Arthur shaking his head at him, although a small smile was visible just at the corners of his mouth.

Merlin reached down to gingerly retrieve his phone. The screen was completely dark and droplets of water flew from the surface as he shook it.

“I think it’s dead,” Arthur laughed as he prised the phone from Merlin’s grip and looked at it. “Seriously, I’m getting you a minder for your birthday. If you survive that long.”

Merlin forced a laugh. How could Arthur speak so casually of death?  _Oh yeah, because he has no idea that he’s been enchanted by some kind of immortal superfairy who wants to kill him in exchange for a welcome home party._

Arthur was looking at him pointedly. “Why are you hovering outside my house in the middle of the night?”

“Because I told him to,” Merlin almost fell over with relief when Morgana appeared. He hadn’t actually thought how he was going to explain his presence. “I thought now would be the perfect time for you to apologise for being a prat in Norfolk as you expressed you wanted to do.”

“And that couldn’t have waited until tomorrow?” Arthur went a little pink, yet gestured for Merlin to follow him up the path to the house.

Merlin followed, feeling his own cheeks flush when Morgana quirked her lips at him. Arthur didn’t remember the apology he’d already given Merlin. Or anything else he’d said to him that night. He’d told Morgana in a moment of weakness, and now he wished more than anything he’d kept his mouth shut.

Morgana glared at her brother as he took out a keyring and opened several locks on the front door, Leon hovering behind. “No, Arthur, it couldn’t. Anyway, I thought it would be nice to invite Merlin for a cup of tea.”

“At one am?” Arthur frowned as he pushed the door open and tapped a long code into a glowing keypad. Clanging sounds came from within the house as though every lock inside was being opened at once. The lights flickered on and Merlin found himself in a surprisingly normal-looking entrance hall (if you ignored the fact that the recognisable Monet painting hanging at the top of the stairs was probably the original.)

“I was at the library,” Merlin blurted out, unsure why  _that_  had been the only excuse that came to him. “So Morgana invited me.”

“Oh,” Arthur replied slowly. “I thought you might have been out with Gwen and Lance.”  _Yeah, that would have made more sense._

“No,” Merlin shook his head vehemently, ridiculously pleased that Arthur hadn’t noticed that the University Library only stayed open past nine o’clock when it was leading up to finals. “I had an essay to finish.”

“I didn’t realise you were such a keen student, that you’d be at the library at this time. Although nothing would really surprise me about you,” Arthur rolled his eyes.

_Would you like to bet on that, Your Royal Highness?_

“Sorry,” he mumbled out eventually as Morgana sashayed off through a door, shooting him a knowing look. “I can go?”

“No,” Arthur sighed, running his hands through his hair. “Come into the kitchen. It’ll be nice to have a break from Morgana. I don’t know why she insisted that she wanted to come a visit for a few days. There’s no arguing with her. You’ve probably noticed that if she’s been texting you”

Merlin nodded, glad that Arthur didn’t seem to have a clue about the true amount of communication that had passed between Merlin and the Princess Royal.

As Arthur removed his coat a suspiciously familiar red hoodie appeared from underneath. Merlin tried not to react to the unbidden memory of the argument on the beach. Arthur didn’t seem to notice so Merlin assumed he was successful.

“Well take your coat off,” Arthur huffed as Leon carefully locked up the door once more. “You’re dripping all over the carpet.”

Merlin peeled off his sodden duffle. It had been too windy for an umbrella and he was soaked through to his jumper underneath.

“You’re like a street urchin,” Arthur smirked taking the coat. “Give me your jumper.”

“No,” Merlin drew a hand to fist in the wool without thinking. “I need it.”

“It’s wet,” Arthur rolled his eyes. “Hang it up here to dry.” He pointed at the coatstand.

“But it’s cold,” Merlin couldn’t explain the need to keep this barrier between him and Arthur.

“ _Mer_ lin, stop being ridiculous.”  _Oh God._ The slightly fond look in Arthur’s eyes that had been so obvious on New Year’s Eve was there again. Not quite as bright, but still noticeable. He reached forward and grabbed the hem of the jumper. He tugged it over Merlin’s head, immediately stilling as he heard Merlin’s hiss of pain. “Christ, Merlin, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Merlin felt his cheeks heating up as he stood there gripping his arm, the jumper hanging limply from Arthur’s fingers.

“No, it’s not,” Arthur sighed heavily. He reached a hand out to touch the bandage visible below the sleeve of his t-shirt, so like the way he had days early it stopped Merlin’s heart. But before he could make contact with the bare skin, which Merlin was amazingly thankful for, he seemed to remember himself and pull away.

“It’s fine, Arthur,  _really_ ,” Merlin forced the words through his lips.

Arthur nodded slowly, hung the jumper up, and gestured for Merlin to follow him into the kitchen. He pulled off the hoodie and held it out to Merlin without meeting his eyes. Merlin’s knees nearly gave out, so he grabbed the hoodie, mumbled a thanks, and pulled it on just for something to keep his mind focused on. He felt his cheeks burning as Arthur turned away from him, seemingly unconcerned by the intimacy of the gesture he’d just made.

As his breathing slowed Merlin was surprised by the domesticity of the situation as he took a seat at the kitchen table and watched Arthur open cupboard doors for teabags and cups. Admittedly the kitchen was three times the size of the one he shared with Gwen, but still, it felt so  _normal_.

“I  _am_  sorry.”

Merlin looked up as he heard Arthur speak. The Prince had his back to him, his attention focused on pouring boiling water into three teacups.

“About what I said in Norfolk,” Arthur continued taking Merlin’s silence as an invitation to continue. “I behaved terribly, and I didn’t mean what I said. And I’d like it if we could be…friends.”

The lack of eloquence that made this apology so different from the last warmed Merlin’s soul. It didn’t matter that Arthur hadn’t bared a part of his soul, no matter how small, like last time. What mattered was that Arthur, even when he was completely infatuated with someone else and under the influence of powerful magic, still retained the awkwardness that Merlin was beginning to realise was purest essence of Arthur. “I’d like that,” he responded quietly.

Arthur turned, biting his lip in a frown. He seemed to be surveying if Merlin was being truthful. Merlin took the fact that Arthur placed a teacup in front of him as a sign of acceptance. Particularly when Arthur smirked, “Do try not to scald yourself with the tea, Merlin. If you do I’m not taking you to the hospital.”

Merlin laughed and he felt some tension leave the room. “Yes, you would, you prat.”

Arthur didn’t deny it.

 

**ooOOoo**

Morgana’s face had dropped steadily as Merlin relayed the information he had from Gaius. They’d managed to persuade Arthur to go to bed twenty minutes earlier and now the two of them were huddled together at the kitchen table. Morgana had pointedly eyed the hoodie, but remained silent about it.

“What are we going to do?” Morgana whispered looking more drawn than she had even at the Palace.

“Gaius will do some more research and let me know,” Merlin replied, gripping his teacup tightly, though this time it was out of fear for Arthur, not because he thought he’d drop it.

“It’s odd.”

“What is?”

Morgana rested her chin in her hands. “He hasn’t stopped talking about Sophia for the last three days. He’s spent most of the time on the phone, even in the car on the way here. But he hasn’t mentioned her once since we arrived.”

“Maybe her spell isn’t strong enough to keep him focused on her when there’s other magic around?” It was a guess, but Merlin didn’t have a better answer.

“Perhaps,” Morgana mulled his words over. “Merlin, what if the only way to rid Arthur of Sophia is to challenge her magic or something? It could be dangerous.

“I’ll do whatever it takes, Morgana,” Merlin knew his words were entirely truthful. “I have to.”

Morgana looked at him sadly for a long moment. “If only Arthur knew of your loyalty.”

“Yes, well,” Merlin shuffled on his chai, discomfited. “I don’t think he should know. Not yet, anyway.”

“But if he knew about magic it might help him to fend of whatever Sophia has done to him.” Morgana stated, not really with any conviction.

“It’s too dangerous, Morgana,” Merlin sighed. “We don’t know what he’ll tell Sophia, and she might try and stop us. If she is what Gaius thinks she is, she’s  _powerful_ , and so is her father. If Arthur knew about my magic and rejected it…”he trailed off and looked up. “How would I protect him?”

Morgana looked like she wanted to disagree, but nodded anyway. “Okay. But you’ll need to tell him one day.”

 

**ooOOoo**

“Merlin!” Arthur looked surprised when he spotted Merlin waiting for him outside the lecture theatre the next morning. “What are you doing here?”

Merlin was aware of the whispers of the girls around Arthur increase by tenfold when they saw Merlin.

“I thought you might like to get a coffee,” Merlin said. “To say thank you. You know, for the phone.” He gestured to his pocket towards the handset that had arrived at his flat that morning. “You really didn’t have to.”

“Yeah, I know,” Arthur shrugged, glancing around at the still-hovering girls. “Shall we…?”

Merlin took the hint and started walking down the corridor. Arthur fell into step next to him and Leon walked behind, far enough away that he didn’t seem obtrusive, but close enough that it warded off the crowding girls. Merlin was pleased Arthur hadn’t questioned his motives further – he didn’t feel admitting to hanging around to ward off simpering  _and_ murderous immortal creatures would be taken well.

“Looks like your fanclub has doubled in size,” Merlin grinned slightly instead as more heads turned to stare at them as they reached the quad.

“Yeah,” Arthur shook his head with a huff. “Although, some of them seem to have defected and started their own club for you.”

Merlin’s eyes widened and Arthur grinned.

“I just wish they’d understand,” Arthur shook his head as the light of mischief that had been shining in his eyes suddenly winked out.

Merlin frowned. “Understand what?”

“That I’m not interested in them. Not like that. I can’t be, because I’m-“

“The Prince of Wales,” Merlin filled in the gap. “I know.”

“Well, yes,” Arthur said. “But also because I’m in love with Sophia.”

Merlin felt like he was being choked. He’d become quietly confident since Morgana’s observation the night before that maybe his theory was correct. Although, apparently not.

Arthur didn’t notice Merlin’s hesitation. He was good at that. He just smiled widely. “I can’t believe how wonderful she is, Merlin. She’s just too good to be true.”

“I’m sure,” Merlin replied tightly.

“What?” Arthur stopped, frowning.

“Nothing,” Merlin replied, angry he’d let his tone slip. “I was agreeing with you.”

“Hmm.” Arthur looked at him for a long moment before continuing to walk through the University archway and out onto the main street. “ _Delia’s_?” He pointed at the coffee shop across the road, beloved by all students for it’s proximity to the main UA buildings, the enormous scones that everyone swore must be made by angels, and for serving reasonably priced caffeine from seven-thirty Monday to Friday.

“Of course,” Merlin nodded his agreement. Perhaps he could use this time to whittle away at whatever spell Sophia had cast. And have a scone, obviously.

Merlin had a plan. So naturally something had to mess it up.

“Arthur!”

Arthur whirled immediately at the sound of a girl’s voice behind them. Merlin’s blood froze in his veins and he turned much more slowly. Regardless of technique the outcome was the same – both boys saw Sophia Tirmor smiling sweetly at the Crown Prince.

“Sophia!” Arthur called in reply, immediately losing all interest in his friend and running towards her.

Merlin saw the camera phones come out of handbags and had visions of the national furore that Arthur was no doubt about to create due to his (technically magic-induced) idiocy.

Arthur allowed Sophia to wind her arms around his neck and Merlin had to ball his fists just to stop him from running over and wrenching Arthur away from her. The whispering grew to speaking, grew to shouting, grew to full on chaos as press photographers appeared from (seemingly) nowhere as Sophia pressed her lips to Arthur’s.

Merlin knew he didn’t imagine the smirk she shot him just before she closed her eyes. Just as he knew this had suddenly become a whole lot more complicated.

* * *

“You didn’t look particularly happy at the way Prince Arthur conducted himself when he saw Miss Tirmor,” Morgause was practically grinning, and Merlin knew exactly what she was about to say. “The photograph that appeared alongside a number of articles also included you in the scene.”

Merlin knew which photo she was referring to. It was one that he and Arthur had laughed at together much, much later on; giggling at how Merlin’s possessiveness was apparent even then as he stood a few feet away from the couple, a look akin to betrayal on his face as his hands remained clenched at his sides. But it hadn’t been funny at the time, and it  _certainly_  wasn’t funny now.

“I didn’t think it was sensible for Arthur to appear so familiar with a fellow student in public,” Merlin replied as diplomatically as he could. “He knew that the press would be around, and as he is usually such a private person.”

“This was your first real interaction with the press, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Merlin growled. “The press didn’t have my address at that stage so I hadn’t been  _ambushed_  trying to get to lectures. Sadly that didn’t remain true and I was hassled on a more regular basis, despite the fact that the attempt on Arthur’s life soon faded from the news.”

“Yes, but that wasn’t really why you held such appeal,” Morgause was still smirking, and Merlin didn’t like how this interview was suddenly seeming more about  _him_  than Arthur. “Particularly when you became so obviously close to a  _number_  of influential people. The public was fascinated by how a normal boy from a small Welsh village suddenly found himself surrounded by nobility. Why don’t you have a look at these to remind yourself?” Morgause reached down to her stack of notes by the fireplace and retrieved a manila folder. With a triumphant smirk she handed the folder to Merlin who received it hesitantly.

He carefully unfolded the cover and immediately knew he’d been ambushed. Inside was a collection of clippings from various newspapers and magazines, alongside a few printouts of blog posts and other online sources. The common factor was Merlin. Each one concerned him and his encounters with Arthur, Morgana, Gwaine, Elena, in fact with  _anyone_  of a particular social standing. There were lists of his supposed favourite things collated by teen magazines, details about his childhood presented alongside awful photos of him and Will in the Nativity play in a special edition of  _Tatler._  Candid shots of Merlin leaving lectures, laughing with Gwaine and Morgana, helping Gwen escape rabid Arthur fangirls who were out for her blood after the ‘Royal arse’ comment hit the papers.

As Merlin reached the final page, his heart nearly gave out in surprise. A black and white photo of Merlin and Arthur on the night everything with Sophia came to a head was glued to the back cover. Merlin had never seen this shot before, and despite the graininess of the image, it was clear that the two boys were arguing heatedly – the recognisable façade of the Louvre Palace looming behind them in the darkness. His eyes snapped to Morgause’s.  _Where was she going with this? Where the hell did this photo come from? Why was she showing it to him now?_

“How does it feel to see these news stories again?” Morgause asked.

Merlin didn’t say anything, just returned his eyes to the folder, tilting it towards himself so that the camera couldn’t see the photo that was holding his attention. He didn’t know if Morgause planned for the world to see this photograph, or whether this was part of some twisted game that Merlin had found himself drawn into but didn’t fully understand yet.

“Despite the media’s best efforts to get to know you better,” Morgause’s eyes roamed predatorily over Merlin, looking for a reaction, “you always remained tight-lipped, and therefore much of what was reported about you in the press wasn’t true.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Merlin closed the folder and tried to appear as calm as possible. His heart was hammering. As he thought about Paris  _Did Morgause know what had happened only minutes before that photo was taken? Did she know what **really** had happened minutes later? She couldn’t, Clarence House had been so careful. Everyone who knew what happened had been clearly informed of what would happen to them if they breathed a word of the truth._

“But it was true that you were always there for Prince Arthur when he was in trouble,” Morgause’s smirk relaxed slightly and Merlin didn’t miss the way her eyes darkened. “You were there for him when his relationship with Miss Tirmor ended less than two weeks later.”

“I was,” Merlin confirmed, because he couldn’t deny that. He was there when it ended.  _When **he** ended it._

“So, why  _were_  you in, Paris, Merlin?”


	15. Chapter 15

“It was for a charity event,” Merlin stated simply. “It was a very short visit.”

* * *

“This is ridiculous,” Merlin rubbed his face tiredly as he sagged into the seat opposite Morgana, clutching a ring binder and a copy of  _Brideshead Revisited_ tightly to his chest. After a day of challenging tutorials he did not want to be on a train, and yet here he was. “Couldn’t the King just have stopped Arthur from bringing her with him?”

Morgana extracted Merlin’s passport from where it was stuffed between the pages of the novel and dropped it into her handbag for safekeeping. “Arthur already threw an almighty strop when Uther hauled him in to explain that  _display_ in Albion last week. He seems to have decided it’s safer to allow the relationship to run its course quickly, considering how interested everyone is. It wouldn’t surprise me if Aulfric’s done some smoothing over as well.”

“But  _Paris_ , Morgana?” Merlin sighed as he saw Arthur entering th e other end of the carriage, Sophia clutching his hand as she walked behind him. “I have an essay due in on Friday and I haven’t even started it because I’ve spent all week stalking your brother.”

Stalking was the only word for what Merlin had been forced to do. When Sophia had informed Arthur they were going to the cinema, Merlin had made sure he was on the row behind; when Sophia dragged Arthur to a lecture with her, Merlin had spent an hour listening to a man drone about the finer points of Animal Psychology;  _then_ Sophia had decided she wanted to hire a boat on the river for an afternoon – Arthur didn’t find this strange, despite the fact Albion was firmly in January’s clutches and it was constantly below zero. Merlin had been midway through working out how to follow them downriver without being seen when Leon had scuppered the excursion by telling Arthur his father was waiting for him at the house. Merlin had never thou ght he’d be so glad to see Uther.

Arthur hadn’t noticed the fact he had gained Merlin as a shadow, but Merlin was sure Sophia knew. Particularly when she shot him another glare before pulling Arthur down to sit next to her on the other side of the aisle. They immediately bent their heads together and Sophia whispered things into Arthur’s ear as he gently ran his fingers over her hands.

Merlin jumped as his phone alerted him to a text message. He pulled it out of his pocket and saw that it was from Morgana. He frowned at her but she was engrossed in a copy of  _The Times_ , studiously ignoring him. He clicked ‘open’:

**From: Morgana  
13th January 2011 18:37**

If I kill her can you make  
it look like an accident?  
You’d be a good alibi – all  
innocent looking!

Merlin snorted and covered his mouth quickly. He was surprised to see that Arthur’s head had snapped in his direction at the sound. Merlin met his eyes for a long moment, but then Sophia raised her hand to Arthur's jaw and tilted his head back towards her. Morgana raised her eyes from the newspaper and shook her head slightly as she pursed her lips. Merlin nodded in response to her text message. He was kidding (mostly).

Merlin opened his novel and began to read in earnest, feeling like he could relax  _slightly_. It was unlikely that Sophia would try anything here – Gaius had told him it was likely that the sacrifice would be an ancient rite and therefore Morgana’s dream of drowning made sense; the gateway to Avalon was a lake, so it made sense that Sophia would need to use water for her plan. They weren’t entirely sure why she was being so public about her relationship with Art hur, but they had decided it was probably due to her overdramatic tendencies winning over practicality; this girl obviously wanted to put on a  _show_. So Arthur was safe while they were on the train, unless Sophia was planning to drown Arthur in a sink….Merlin told himself to stop being ridiculous and forget that thought.

He loved  _Brideshead_ as a novel and had been looking forward to writing the essay on it, but since he’d started trying to work he’d been horribly distracted by the snuffling and giggling coming from Arthur and Sophia – Morgana had already yelled at them twice and had resorted to blasting angry girl music through headphones to block them out; Merlin had declined her offer of one ear bud, feeling that singers yelling about how life wasn’t fair and concluding all men were bastards wouldn’t help him to focus. So he nearly cried with relief when, forty minutes into reading the same three pages repeatedly, two wonderful things happened:

  1. Arthur fell asleep so Sophia had to shut up (Merlin casually checked he was still breathing by finding an excuse to walk past)
  2. Complimentary coffee and sandwiches made it to their tables.



Merlin gratefully swallowed the coffee, scalding his tongue slightly. He had to admit there were some benefits to being befriended/practically adopted by Morgana. She and Arthur were due to attend a Charity Dinner in Paris the next day -Merlin wasn’t entirely sure but thought it had something to do with one of the foundations set up in Queen Ygraine’s memory – Arthur had informed everyone he had invited Sophia, and Morgana had made the case to Uther to allow her to bring Merlin as her guest. Uther, who seemed to think that Merlin was a good influence on Arthur (he’d approved of Merlin’s frown captured in the newspaper – assuming it was his reaction to Arthur’s lack of decorum), had agreed readily. So here he was travelling first class to Paris, although he was starting to wish he’d accepted his course tutor’s offer of an extension in the essay due to his ‘exceptional circumstances.’

He spread ou t the various notes he’d made on scrappy A4 paper, accidentally nudging Morgana’s newspaper as he did so. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Don’t worry,” she said kindly, taking her ear buds out and folding up the paper. “At least you,  _unlike some people,”_ she shot a withering glance at Sophia, actually feel somewhat responsible about missing your lectures. At least it’s not too difficult to love the novel you’re studying.”

Merlin smiled. He often forgot that Morgana had studied Literature too, and was grateful for the distraction of some intelligent conversation as he continued to be aware of Sophia’s eyes tracking his every move. “Not hard at all.”

“I think it’s wonderful,” Morgana grinned. “So, what’s the essay about? I might even be helpful.”

Merlin hesitated momentarily before pushing a piece of paper towards her. He knew where this would go.

“Charles’ emotional and intellectual growth throughout the novel, and how his relationships with Sebastian and Julia allow for the exploration of class, tradition and the rise of modernity,” she read aloud, her grin morphing into something more akin to a smirk as the seconds passed. “Well, well, Merlin. Isn’t it useful that you’ve suddenly found yourself surrounded by the nobility? You can relate to real life and write from personal experience.” Morgana laughed and Merlin flushed slightly.

“Thankfully you’re not like the characters,” Merlin allowed himself a grin.

“I don’t know,” Morgana twirled a piece of her hair between her fingers. “Arthur is quite conceited, keeps terrible company (you and I excluded obviously) and is slightly barking. Oh, and definitely still has his teddy bear in his room at Kensington.”

Merlin laughed loudly and allowed himself a pointed look at a glowering Sophia, who was now clutching Arthur’s hand territorially. He narrowed his eyes and was gratified to see her flinch slightly.

Morgana looked at another piece of paper and read the quotation Merlin had scribbled down hastily. “Charm is the great English blight. It does not exist outside these damp islands. It spots and kills anything it touches. It kills love; it kills art; I greatly fear, my dear Charles, it has killed you.” That’s a bit depressing, Merlin.”

He nodded, his mood blackening slightly as he glanced at Arthur. “I hope I don’t get to personally relate to  _that_.”

 

**ooOOoo**

Morgana was shifty, and for that Merlin would be eternally glad. She had apparently spoken to Uther at length about propriety and common decency and now Leon, Elyan and other members of the young Royals’ security team were under strict instructions to keep Sophia and Arthur away from each other in the hotel. Merlin was  _less_  glad about the fact that this meant he had ended up sharing a room with Arthur; he didn’t know how Morgana had wrangled that one, because she got her own room next door. Thankfully Sophia was also alone, but downstairs.

They said ‘room’, but it was more like palatial suite. Merlin had nearly fallen over in surprise when he’d opened the curtains when they reached the room that evening and seen the Eiffel Tower sparkling in the near distance, across the river. Arthur had huffed and sighed at Merlin’s surprise, but after about twenty minutes of complaining ab out how he was being kept from his beloved, Sophia’s hold seemed to fade slightly and Arthur switched to gently mocking Merlin’s childish enthusiasm.

“Are you hungry?” Arthur asked, taking a seat on one of the enormous sofas that held pride of place in the living area whilst Merlin continued to stare in wonder at the city beneath them. “You had about five hundred sandwiches on the train.”

Merlin finally turned, his lips quirking slightly as Arthur felt so much more  _Arthury_. Merlin kicked himself for lacking the skills to coin a more eloquent term. “Well they were free and they were there, I wasn’t going to let them go to waste, was I? Not all of us have a live-in chef, we have to make do.”

“Merlin, Arthur sighed indignantly, “for the hundredth time, I do  _not_ have a live-in chef. Auber has his own apartment in Albion and is not contracted to cook for me  _every_  day.”

“Semantics,” Merlin waved his hand airily and sat down on the other sofa.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “So I take it you’re not hungry then?”

“Starving,” Merlin grinned.

Arthur’s reply was cut off as his phone buzzed. His expression softened into something that looked like a cross between adoring and terribly sleepy.

Merlin knew what that meant. “Oh, is that Sophia?” he tried to ask casually.

“Yes,” Arthur’s face changed once more; this time to a deep frown. “She says Leon isn’t letting her visit this floor. I need to go and get her.” He jumped to his feet immediately.

“Arthur, you really should stay here,” Merlin tried to keep the hysterical note out of his voice. Tracking Sophia and Arthur around Paris would be diffic ult as he didn’t know the city, and he was  _sure_ that Sophia would have the means to separate from the security team. Most worrying was of the course the fact that there just so happened to be a large body of water running through the middle of Paris. “Remember what y-“

“Merlin!” Arthur boomed and Merlin couldn’t help but flinch. “I have to help Sophia.” He stared hard at his friend, and began to stride towards the door.

Merlin made his decision and steeled himself with a silent apology to Arthur, before he held out his hand and whispered “ _Forþ fleoge!_ ” He really hoped that was right.

Arthur stumbled forward slightly and toppled forward, Merlin wincing as the Prince’s head collided with the heavy wooden door. Arthur landed in a heap on the floor, but otherwise uninjured.

Merlin groaned as he realised his mistake. How th e hell was he supposed to get Arthur off the floor?

 

**ooOOoo**

In the end he’d had to call Morgana in her room next door, who had proved to be quite useful (once she’d stopped giggling hysterically at the snoozing Arthur). But then Merlin had spent the whole night wide awake just in case Sophia tried to get into the room, through magical means or otherwise.

While it meant that Arthur got through an entire night relatively unscathed (even though he did have a slight purple mark on his forehead and he was  _incredibly_ grumpy that he had apparently knocked himself out), it meant that Merlin could barely keep his eyes open the next day as they all trailed around Paris. Only the biting cold wind in his face stopped him from dropping into a dead faint on the pavement on a few occasions.

Arthur was animatedly telling Sophia about the history of the city; and Merlin had to sigh at the way Arthur became so enthused when he was talking about the past. Sophia was  _not_ enthused, she clearly wasn’t listening to the Prince at all, and Merlin was sure she grinned slightly any time they ended up near the Seine.

Morgana had been supplying Merlin was coffee all morning – which actually meant she was asking Leon to source coffee for Merlin and then handing it to him triumphantly.

“Merlin?” Morgana asked quietly when they stopped for lunch. Sophia was pretending to be interested in the streetlamps Arthur was pointing out to her across the road and therefore not in earshot. “Do you think she’s going to try something while we’re here? In Paris, I mean.”

Merlin swallowed heavily. He wasn’t sure if it was just the tiredness he was experiencing, but his magic had felt slightly off since breakfast time. “I think she might.”

Morgana paled. “It’s going to be hard keeping track of them at the dinner this evening. There’s going to be hundreds of people there. Could you maybe knock him out again? That way he’d have to stay at the hotel.”

“Morgana,” Merlin sighed, squeezing her hand briefly, “I really don’t want to use magic on Arthur again. It doesn’t feel right. I’m confident we can stop Sophia. Trust me.”

“I do.”

 

**ooOOoo**

This was  _not_  the way things were supposed to be going. Merlin had heard the dull thuds in the corridor as he was trying to tie his bow tie – despite the fact his arm was moving slightly better he still couldn’t achieve the result Arthur had managed.

“What was that?” Arthur looked towards the door suspiciously. “Did you hear that?”

Both boys watched as the door handle turned, no knock to signify they were receiving a visitor. It wasn’t Morgana; Merlin could hear her ridiculous hairdryer through the wall. He knew exactly who it would be…

_Okay, not **exactly**  who I thought it would be._

Yes, Sophia was there, but so was Aulfric. “What?” Merlin breathed.

Arthur wasn’t saying anything, he had just turned away from Merlin.

“Stay away from him,” Merlin’s voice shook, not through fear, but instead from the anger that was pushing his magic to the surface. “Or so help me I  _will_ stop you.”

Sophia shot him a withering look and her father laughed; Merlin was mildly concerned to see Aulfric was holding a staff. An actual  _staff._ Merlin concluded that the dull thuds had probably been the guards outside becoming closely acquainted with said staff, either physically or magically. His stomach clenched at the thought.

“Arthur,” Merlin invoked as much strength into his voice as possible. “Arthur, you need to listen to me. We need to leave.”

Arthur remained silent.

“Arthur!” Merlin made a move towards the Prince, Aulfric’s eyes flashing red as he did so stopping Merlin in his tracks. “Arthur, look at his eyes! Arthur!”

Arthur turned and Merlin almost expired from fright. Instead of the blue orbs Merlin had found himself becoming a little stupid over, Arthur’s eyes were radiating the same deep red as Aulfric.

So shocked was Merlin, he didn’t have time to react when Aulfric raised his staff and yelled. Merlin felt himself rise from the floor and fly across the room, colliding painfully with the wall.

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin awoke to Morgana screaming his name. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked around groggily. “Arthur? Where’s Arthur?”

“They took him, Merlin,” Morgana was practically sobbing. “Sophia and her father.”

Merlin clung to Morgana slightly as he rose unsteadily to his feet. “I have to go after him.”

“Merlin!”

“Morgana, there’s nothing else I can do. Where’s Leon?”

“Recovering,” Morgana wrung her hands. “Whatever they did, they managed to immobilise everyone.”

Merlin staggered from the room without another word. Beyond water, he didn’t have a clue where Sophia would be taking Arthur. He winced as he felt his magic tighten around his aching muscles in protest. He took a deep breath and pushed the golden strands outwards, h oping beyond all hope that they would lead him to Arthur.

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin’s heart thudded as he ran up the Quai des Tuileries, only knowing the name because Arthur had been so enthusiastic about the architecture of the Palais de Louvre that ran along the length of the road earlier in the day.

_Arthur. God, Arthur, you better still be alive, because now I feel like killing you myself._

His ankle was aching, his head was aching. Actually it was probably easier to list where he wasn’t aching. The answer being  _nowhere_. He breathed through the pain, drawing on some of his magic to help propel him forward, thanking the universe for gracing him with long limbs just this once. He didn’t want to push his magic too far though as he was going to need it to stop Sophia and Aulfric.

His phone began to vibrate in his pocket, but he didn’t stop to answer the call. He was thankful that it was on silent, o therwise he’d be alerting his position to the three figures he’d just about caught in the distance. It was them; he could feel Arthur being drawn away from him, and once more Merlin drew on reserves of strength he didn’t know he possessed.

He didn’t know what he was going to do when he reached them. The road next to him wasn’t exactly quiet, cars and motorbikes speeding past along the river.

Merlin was almost relieved when he saw the trio draw to a halt in the distance. He saw a small group of visitors exiting the museum next to where Arthur had drawn to a halt. He knew this would be his only chance; Sophia might like making a scene, but from the way Aulfric was cagily looking around Merlin didn’t think he was quite as keen to draw attention as his daughter.

Merlin picked up his pace, the soles of his dress shoes thudding on the pavement as he cursed the fact he wasn’t wearin g sensible shoes for giving chase to attempted murderers. “Arthur!” he yelled just before he barrelled into the unsuspecting Prince and sent both of them sprawling to the floor. He didn’t really have a plan.

The tourists scattered, most of them hurrying up the road. Merlin looked around wildly as he pulled himself to his feet; he couldn’t see Sophia or Aulfric anywhere.  _What the hell?_

“ _Mer_ lin!” Arthur barked, rising to his feet and glaring at his friend. “What the  _fuck_  are you doing?”

Merlin took a moment to be thankful the tourists didn’t seem to be aware of who the irate blond man was. He was also thankful that Arthur’s eyes were blue. Lovely, wonderful,  _normal_ blue.

Arthur looked around in confusion suddenly. “What am I doing here? There was someone I was with.”

Merlin looked carefully at Arthur, he didn’t know what was happening and was at a bit of a loss of what to do next. “Arthur, I-“

“Sophia,” Arthur hissed out. “You’re here to stop me from seeing Sophia.”

Merlin paled as Arthur crowded him dangerously. “Arthur. Lis-“

“What have you got against her, Merlin?” Arthur’s voice had dropped dangerously low. This was not going as expected. “Oh my  _God_ ,” Arthur threw up his hands and laughed coldly, “you’re jealous!”

Merlin’s mouth dropped open in surprise. Now was  _not_ the time for this conversation.

“Well get over it, Merlin,” Arthur’s voice was shaking with suppressed anger. “I’m in love with Sophia, and we’re going to be married.”

“What?!” Merlin shrieked. He tried to look away from Arthur who was now looming over him. “ _Arthur_.”

Arthur reacted to Merlin’s exhalation of breath as though he’d been kicked. He blinked drowsily. “Merlin?”

“Are you alright?” Merlin’s question escaped in a rush and he put his hands out to run his fingers down Arthur’s arms. He took a step closer and studied Arthur’s face. All hints of cruelty erased, just slightly awkward, confused Arthur Pendragon remaining in its place. Merlin reached up to push the blond fringe back from Arthur’s forehead, searching his eyes, looking for any lingering trace of Sophia’s enchantment.

Arthur tilted his face closer to Merlin’s. “I felt…”

“Are you alright?” Merlin asked again, even more softly. His hand moved slowly away from Arthur’s face and settled on his shoulder.

“I didn’t…”

“What?” Merlin whispered. He had no idea what was going on, but was too stunned to move as Arthur leaned closer, his breath ghosting over Merlin’s lips.

“Arthur!”  _Sophia!_

The change in the Prince was immediate. Arthur’s face grew cold once more, before he picked up the conversation he’d lost track of earlier. “You  _heard_ me,” Arthur hissed as he glared at Merlin once more. “We’re going to be married and there’s nothing you can do about it.” He pushed Merlin backwards, palms against his chest.

Merlin stumbled in surprise and with renewed hatred for his lanky legs tripped over his own ankles. He landed on the pavement with a thud that jarred his already aching head. He was half-distressed and half-glad to note that tourists were giving them a wide berth rather than getting involved. Before he could say anything Arthur was running across the road, narrowly dodging traffic.

 _God, no!_ Merlin pushed himself up and stumbled to the kerb. Bracing himself and hoping his magic would protect him as much as possible he stepped onto the tarmac and hurried after Arthur.

After almost colliding with a taxi Merlin sagged in relief as he reached the opposite pavement. He whirled around, surveying the road but he’d once more lost track of Arthur. His heart was pounding in his chest, harder than it had before; he shook his head to rid himself of the image of Arthur gazing at him tenderly, he really did not have time to deal with that.

A blue flash skipping across the Seine drew his attention. Looking over the quay wall he could just about make out three figures at the end of a slipway below him. His heart clenched as he watched Arthur and Sofia wade into the water; they still stood on the slipway but they were wais t deep in water. He reached his hand out and tried to send a spell,  _any_ spell at the small group, but his fingers emitted a few sparks and nothing more.

Merlin slammed his palms down on the wall. He pulled away and ran up the pavement looking for a way down to Arthur. He couldn’t see anything useful; he tugged his hair in frustration, roaring as he felt his phone vibrate again. Out of a pure stroke of luck, he saw a gap in the wall behind one of the neatly kept trees about ten feet to his right. He set off at a run, practically galloping through the gap and down the steps.

Aulfric was standing, staff raised chanting. Merlin didn’t know what he was saying for the most part but he heard the words ‘Arthur Pendragon’ quite clearly. Sophia was standing in the water; her arm arced gracefully in front of her…in front of her where Arthur no longer was. Merlin just about caught a flash of the top of the Prin ce’s head as he slipped facedown below the waterline.

Rage pulsed through Merlin’s system, unlike anything he’d felt before. This was worse than Meribel, because  _this_  time Merlin had had to stand by and watch Arthur be  _manipulated_  first. The small part of his brain that was still processing rational thought caught sight of a second staff on the ground.

In two long strides Merlin had reached the staff, picked it up and pointed it at Aulfric. He opened his mouth and words poured forth; words he didn’t know, that felt unfamiliar on his tongue, but as though they were being ripped from his very soul.

Aulfric disintegrated before Merlin’s eyes, and he felt nothing as he watched the man wink out of existence. Somewhere deep down he knew that should worry him, but that wasn’t important. Only Arthur.

“Father!” Sophia screamed, only jus t getting the syllables past her lips before Merlin turned the staff on her and repeated the process.

The staff fell from his grasp uselessly as he raced down the treacherously wet slipway. “ARTHUR!”

He threw himself into the water, no regard for the fact it was practically pitch black and the middle of January. He was entirely fixated on one task.  _Find Arthur._ “Arthur? Arthur!”

Merlin was vaguely aware of someone roaring his own name but he didn’t turn, he  _couldn’t_ turn. His hand connected with something solid below the water and he almost missed his opportunity to grab hold of it in his surprise. But suddenly his head was below the water and his arms were around Arthur, and all he knew was  _Arthur_.

He struggled as the relief of finding Arthur caused the floodgates in his mind to open; suddenly he felt the cold of the wate r, the burn in his lungs from exertion, the terrible, overriding  _fear_ that maybe he was too late.

Merlin gasped, taking in a mouthful of water when he felt arms wrap around him from behind. He couldn’t kick, not without risking Arthur further. He simply tightened his arms around the Prince’s chest.  _You will **not**  take him from me!_

“Merlin, relax!” A voice close to his ear shouted. “Merlin, you’re okay. Let me help.”

 _Leon_. Merlin’s mind latched onto that one name. He stopped struggling and seconds later Merlin found himself lying on his back on the slipway, his feet still in the water, Arthur still clutched protectively to his chest.

Leon gently removed Merlin’s deathgrip from around the Prince and moved him slightly further away.

Merlin was immediate ly on his knees crawling towards Arthur, dropping his head to his chest. He sobbed with relief as he felt Arthur’s chest rising and falling below his cheek; a tiny, broken sound that didn’t sound human.

Leon was yelling into a phone. “It’s a five! Alert the King at once. It’s a five!”

Merlin didn’t know what a five was. Didn’t care. He resisted Morgana – when had  _Morgana_ arrived? – resisted her attempts to pull him away from her brother. Merlin simply held on tighter, allowing the darkness to take him with one final thought.

_We’re not coming to France again._

* * *

“Did you find it slightly odd that Sophia waited to end the relationship until she was in Paris?” Morgause asked.

“Not really,” Merlin shrugged, trying not to shudder at the memory of Arthur disappearing into the freezing Seine. “Sophia wasn’t aware of the transfer until we had already arrived.”

“Arthur didn’t take the break up well, did he?” Morgause was referencing the drawn pictures of Arthur that had filled the International publications for days following that evening in Paris.

“He was shocked at the way it ended,” Merlin said carefully. Arthur hadn’t been too torn up about the end of the relationship, considering he didn’t remember most of it. He’d been drawn because he found out about the secret his father had been keeping from him for years; that night was also when Arthur found out about magic.


	16. Chapter 16

“What did the Prince do immediately after Miss Tirmor left?”

“We went back to the hotel,” Merlin replied as steadily as possible. “Arthur didn’t want to go to the charity dinner, and I couldn’t really say I blamed him.”

“ _Straight_  back to the hotel?” Morgause’s eyes flashed dangerously.

Merlin tried not to gulp. “Yes.”

* * *

Merlin woke when his head collided with something cold and solid, and then bounced off again. “Ow!” He groaned as he opened his eyes in surprise.

“Sorry,” Leon was looking back at him from the front seat of a car. “The road’s a bit bumpy.”

 _He was in a car…with Leon. Why was he in a car w-_ “Arthur!”

Leon inclined his head slightly and Merlin turned to see a wide-eyed Arthur staring at him from where he sat on the opposite side of the car to Merlin. His blond hair was stuck to his face and he had a blanket pulled up around his chin as he gawped at Merlin, something unfathomable flashing in his eyes as he trembled slightly.

Merlin shivered and took the opportunity to look down at himself. He too had a blanket covering him, although it had slipped from his shoulders and now pooled uselessly in his lap. His dinner jacket and bowtie were missing but the damp shirt and trousers stuck to him uncomfortably. He wiggled his toes and was rewarded with a muffled  _squelch_  emanating from the foot well.

“Not too far,” Leon said as he saw Merlin begin to understand the situation. “We couldn’t risk anybody seeing anything, but we’ll make sure you’re both warm and dry as soon as possible.” Leon nodded encouragingly before turning back to speak quietly with whoever was driving.

Merlin turned to Arthur, a flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck when he realised that Arthur still hadn’t looked away. “Um…”

“Merlin, you  _idiot_ ,” Arthur hissed quietly.

Merlin bristled slightly. “What?”

“How could you be so stupid?”

Merlin wondered if he’d imagined the events of earlier that night; he was pretty sure he’d saved Arthur from drowning at the hands of two demented fairies with a penchant for torture and a flair for the dramatic. “Excuse me?”

“You threw yourself into the Seine, Merlin,” Arthur’s voice rose slightly and Merlin saw his fists curl into a ball. “The  _Seine_  in  _January_. It’s freezing. You could have  _died!_ ”

Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin saw Leon turn to watch the exchange warily; no doubt poised to jump in if either boy resorted to violence.

“I was saving your life!” Merlin fought hard to keep his voice low. “ _Again_! I wasn’t just going to stand there and watch you die.” He could feel a burn in the back of his eyes and he willed himself not to cry. He’d never been good at hiding his emotions – his mother had warned him on more than one occasion that wearing his heart on his sleeve would bring him trouble (she had also hastened to add that she wouldn’t change him for the world).

Merlin felt a pulse of magic beneath his skin as he bit his lip and the car radio burst into life, startling everyone with ear-splittingly loud Europop. Leon jabbed at it until silence filled the car once more.

Merlin sniffed once and Arthur deflated immediately. The Prince’s head dropped to his chest and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry,” he whispered closing his eyes. “I didn’t mean to-“

“It doesn’t matter,” Merlin hurriedly scrubbed at his face. “It’s been a long night.”

“Yeah.” Arthur looked up and met his friend’s eyes, the fear only too obvious this time.

“Yeah.”

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin was blowing air into his cupped hands when a knock came at the door. He crossed the room quickly, already feeling the stiffness in his legs, and pushed down on the handle.

“Merlin.” It was Leon. “You should change out of your suit. There’s a shower just through there, and the Princess had some clothes sent over from the hotel.”

“Morgana’s not here?” Merlin arched an eyebrow. Wherever  _here_  was. He’d looked out the window but couldn’t see anything in the dark, and Leon hadn’t exactly been forthcoming since they arrived. The only person he’d spoken to was a gruff man who was apparently the Royal Physician when the Pendragon family were in Paris – he hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with information, just announced that Merlin needed warmth and rest.

“Er…no,” Leon looked slightly uncomfortable. “His majesty the king felt it would be better for her to attend the charity dinner. So as not to raise too much suspicion about Arthur’s absence.”

“But her brother was nearly  _killed_ ,” Merlin looked appalled.

Leon shrugged slightly and proffered a small bag to Merlin. “When you’re ready, please just come downstairs. The King will be here in a couple of hours and you really will need to be ready for that.”

Merlin, not sure of what to say in response, simply nodded as Leon quietly closed the door.

 _Oh God_ , he dropped his head into his hands.  _Had they seen the magic?_ The thought made him shiver, well, that in combination with his damp clothes.  _The King was coming here. The **King.** Was he going to confront Merlin about his secret?_

A particularly violent shiver skittered up Merlin’s spine and he decided that, given the choice, he’d rather face the wrath of King Uther when he was dry and warm. He headed through the door Leon had pointed to and discovered a small en-suite. He closed the door behind him and turned the shower dial; it wasn’t long before the room filled with steam and Merlin felt he could breathe a little more easily.

Willing his shaking fingers to behave he peeled the suit away from his body, avoiding thinking about why he was in this state in the first place. He had no idea where Arthur was, and no idea of what Arthur remembered. He was just going to have to wait it out.

He steeled himself before stepping under the water with a hiss. He knew the water couldn’t be that hot, but it rained down on him like hellfire, feeling as though a million tiny swords were prodding his frozen limbs. He pretended he couldn’t taste salt on his lips, and that his eyes were burning just in reaction to the change in temperature.

He couldn’t pretend, however, that his hands weren’t still shaking when he turned off the stream of water and towled himself dry. Balling his fingers into fists he squared his shoulders and headed back to the bedroom he’d been waiting in, picking up the bag Leon had passed him.

Inside he was pleased to find the pair of jeans he’d worn travelling – Morgana hadn’t had a malevolent moment and just sent underpants, which he had momentarily worried about. His hand did still momentarily as he reached the bottom of the bag and found Arthur’s red hoodie carefully folded under one of Merlin’s own long sleeve t-shirts. Donning his t-shirt carefully he ran his hands over the soft, red material and then pulled it over his head with only minor difficulty.

He had just braced himself to leave the room when the door opened without warning.

“Good, you’re here,” Arthur spoke hurriedly, seemingly unconcerned that he’d just waltzed in unannounced.

Merlin stared dumbly at the Prince. Only an hour or so earlier Arthur had disappeared beneath the water and Merlin had thought he’d been too late. And yet here he was – clean, dry and looking more than a little confused. Merlin felt his heart stutter in his chest once more and sank down onto the edge of the bed as a memory of his earlier fear gripped him.

“Merlin?” Arthur asked carefully, taking a step closer.

“I thought you were dead,” Merlin whispered, his breath hitching on that final,  _awful_  word. “I thought I was too late. When I saw you, and then I didn’t see you…You weren’t there anymore and there was jus-“

“Merlin!” Arthur’s voice was soft but stern, cutting Merlin’s rambling off immediately. The Prince carefully dropped to his knees before Merlin and reached his hands out to unfurl the trembling boy’s fingers.

“I killed them,” Merlin’s voice was barely a breath of air, he was almost positive that he hadn’t actually formed the words. He felt his lungs empty with a agonizing  _whoosh_. His ears rang with the finality of his actions. Merlin Emrys, not yet twenty year old from Wales, had just. Killed. Two. People. It didn’t matter that they hadn’t necessarily been ‘people’, or that they had been prepared to murder, themselves.

Merlin had killed for Arthur, and that scared him. But he realised now that the most troubling thought, the one that was continuing to wrack his body with shudders, was that he would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant saving Arthur’s life. He sucked in a breath, his eyes widening when it felt like he wasn’t taking in enough air.

“Merlin!  _Fuck!_ ” Arthur’s squeezed Merlin’s fingers entwined with his own. “ _Breathe!”_

A particularly painful twist of his wrist caused Merlin to exhale loudly. As his lungs emptied once more the need to gulp air in lessened slightly. Arthur gently ran his hands over the back of Merlin’s wrist, a silent apology for the necessary pain he’d just caused.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, much more gently this time, looking up directly into Merlin’s frightened blue eyes. “You did nothing wrong. You saved my life  _again_. I would never ask you to…would never  _want_  you to feel guilty about doing that.” He switched the position of his hands and ran his fingers up Merlin’s arm to his elbow and back again in a soothing motion.

Merlin’s trembling eventually stilled, but he knew that this wouldn’t be the end of it. He had killed for Arthur, when Arthur hadn’t asked him to. What would he be capable of if he needed to save Arthur again? Most terrifying of all was the realisation that Merlin could not see sense or reason when it came to the boy sitting before him; he hadn’t hesitated when he’d destroyed Aulfric and Sophia, not even for a split-second. He didn’t think he ever would. Ever  _could_.

“Merlin?” Arthur was looking at him with a curious combination of fear and wonder written all over his face.

Merlin momentarily wondered whether this was the perfect opportunity to tell Arthur about his magic. To explain that he knew it was his duty to protect Arthur from any harm, even though he still didn’t know where such conviction came from. He was seized by the overwhelming fear that if the King knew about Merlin’s powers he would never see Arthur or Morgana again.

Arthur took Merlin’s silence as something that needed to be filled. “Merlin, I don’t really know what happened tonight. But I do know that you did something terribly stupid.”

Arthur was too being far too calm for Merlin to believe that he knew what had happened to Aulfric and Sophia. “Arthur, it-“

“No,” Arthur said softly, holding up a finger to request Merlin’s silence. Merlin’s head rapidly emptied all semblances of sense and rationality. “Why do you  _always_  interrupt when I’m trying to apologise?“

Merlin couldn’t believe the small laugh that huffed out of his mouth, and Arthur looked somewhat pleased with himself, ducking his head a fraction.

“Do you think you can remain quiet for an appropriate amount of time?” Arthur was looking at him fondly again.

Merlin bit his lip, overcome with a rush of warmth that was steadily beginning to soothe his exhausted soul. A tiny red flag reared up to suggest that Arthur might not be feeling so affectionate towards Merlin if he knew that he’d killed - and that he’d used magic to do so – but Arthur’s gentle ministrations batted the thought away.  _Can I be selfish, just this once? Just for a moment._

“I’m sorry that you had to risk your life  _again_ , to save mine,” Arthur’s voice was almost completely steady. “Although I don’t know  _exactly_ what happened, I’ve gathered enough that you threw yourself unthinkingly into a dangerous situation. Something you seem to be getting into the habit of doing recently. Around me.” Arthur looked down, embarrassed for a moment. “But, Merlin there are people I have known my entire life who wouldn’t risk themselves the way you have, and I don’t mean people who are  _paid_ to do so. I would never ask you to do that for me, and yet you do. Why?”

Merlin considered his answer for a moment. Sensing only one in his tangled web of thoughts he allowed himself to voice it. “I’m sure you’d do the same for me.”

Arthur looked slightly surprised, but didn’t deny it. A tiny smile appeared just on the edge of his mouth and Merlin, against his better judgment, allowed himself to remember how close Arthur had been to him outside the Louvre. He must have tensed slightly, because Arthur’s eyes darted back up to catch hold of his gaze.

“You don’t remember anything?” Merlin asked quietly, sure he hadn’t given his treacherous lips permission to voice that question.

Arthur worried his lip, and with a wince pressed his knees further into the carpet in order to raise himself up slightly. He was looking at Merlin intently, his eyes not leaving the other’s as he took hold of Merlin’s right hand and placed it on his shoulder. “I have a feeling I sort of remember something like this.”

Merlin gulped, looking down at where his fingers now gripped Arthur’s shoulder, in exactly the way they had earlier. Raising his eyes once more he found a very bashful Arthur Pendragon staring back.

“But…” Merlin trailed off uselessly, his silence carrying the shadow of their conversation at Morgana’s party. The one Arthur didn’t remember having. Merlin needed to stop Arthur. There were too many things Arthur didn’t know, didn’t understand from whatever vague rundown of the night he’d received from Leon. He had to stop him from doing whatever it was he was about to do. Stop him. Right Now. Right Now This Absolute Second.

Arthur kept his eyes open right up until the moment his lips pressed softly against Merlin’s. Merlin’s eyes only widened as the Prince’s lashes fluttered closed.

For a moment he could do nothing. He was fully aware that Arthur had neither increased nor decreased the pressure; he was waiting. Arthur was waiting for him. Merlin, drained of all common sense once more, allowed his eyes to close and gently pressed forward.

Arthur’s response was immediate, but his movements still controlled, as though he didn’t want to startle Merlin in any way. The fingers of his left hand tangled in the hair curling damply at the base of Merlin’s neck as he brought his right hand down to entwine with Merlin’s own.

Merlin sighed softly just as Arthur pulled away. He followed his mouth uselessly, but he found himself halted by Arthur’s hand pressing against his lips.

Arthur looked down at Merlin, the tip of his tongue peeking out from the corner of his lips, and then held his questioning gaze for a long moment. “Is that my hoodie?”

* * *

“And what happened when you went  _straight back to the hotel_?”

Merlin did  _not_  like the emphasis Morgause had placed on that phrase ( _Lie_ ). He felt the muscles in his jaw tense.  _Calm down, Emrys._ “Arthur received a phone call from his father, “ he spoke calmly, adding a slight shrug for emphasis. “They obviously had a lot to talk about.”

_Understatement._

_Of._

_The._

_Millennium._


	17. Chapter 17

“They talked about Sophia?”

“Yes.”

“What else?”

“It was a private conversation. I was obviously not privy to the details.”

* * *

Merlin was fiddling nervously with the cuffs of his (Arthur’s) hoodie, hooking the material with his thumbs and folding his fingers back in on themselves to create small cocoons. He repeated the process a dozen or so times before fingers curled over his wrist, stilling his movements. He looked across the sofa to see Arthur rolling his eyes at him, the Prince’s hand lingering just a tiny bit longer than appropriate before he pulled back.

Ducking his head, Merlin hoped the red of the hoodie wasn’t setting off the pink flush he could feel creeping across the back of his neck. Arthur had only kissed him once - and when he thought about it ( _and dear lord was he thinking about it_ ) it wasn’t actually much more than a light pressure of lips for a few seconds – and hadn’t said anything since Merlin had babbled uselessly about Morgana sending him the clothes. So really Merlin should not be turning into a strawberry-hued wreck when Arthur looked perfectly composed; particularly as Leon and a few other members of the security team were standing in various places around the large reception room. Merlin assumed they were going for nonchalance, but each man looked ready to pounce at the slightest hint of trouble.

Footsteps that sounded akin to an advancing army echoed from a corridor within the building and Merlin watched as Arthur’s spine straightened to attention before he rose to his feet, his chin raised haughtily; not a trace of awkwardness of the evening’s trauma visible in his countenance.

Leon gestured quickly at Merlin and he too rose to his feet, attempting a stance like Arthur’s, but appearing less regal and imposing, and more bone weary and nervous.

The grand mahogany doors opened inwards and King Uther strode into the room. Merlin looked around quickly to ascertain what everyone else was doing and inclined his head slightly towards the ground in what he hoped looked to be a respectful action.

It didn’t actually matter what Merlin had done; Uther’s attention was fixed solely on his son – the King’s eyes were hard with anger, but Merlin was sure there was a hint of concern in there, albeit hidden very deeply.

“Arthur,” Uther spoke coldly, his face not once losing its sense of disapproval.

“Father.” Arthur bowed his head and Merlin frowned slightly. Arthur looked repentant, and chastened, despite his squared shoulders.

“A word.” Uther continued to glare at his son. “ _Now_.”

Arthur twitched slightly at the command in his father’s tone, as if a small part of him wanted to rebel. Merlin was proud of that small part; he knew next to nothing about Arthur’s relationship with his father, but he wasn’t prepared to see Uther behaving so frostily towards his only son, only hours after said son had nearly died.  _Again._

“Merlin.”

Merlin nearly fell over in surprise when Uther addressed him. His brain eventually managed to force out a harried  _Your Majesty_.

“Merlin, if you’d be so kind as to wait here,” Uther spoke sharply, “I would like a word with you also.”

Merlin bobbed his head. His mind too focused on listening for some deeper clue hidden in Uther’s words;  _did he know about the magic?_

He just about caught the look of trepidation Arthur shot in his direction before the Prince was swept from the room along with his father.

Leon heaved a sigh of relief as the door closed, and Merlin was  _sure_  he wasn’t allowed to do that. Arthur’s guard caught him looking and pursed his lips to wrestle professionalism back onto his face.

The silence that descended on the room was not a comfortable one and Merlin desperately wished that someone would break it.

In the end it was him who gave in. “Leon?”

“Hmm?” Leon was distracted; clearly listening out for something.

“Where exactly are we?”

 

**ooOOoo**

“Mr Emrys,” Uther wasn’t looking at where Merlin sat perched on a chair, instead staring out into the darkness beyond the window, “I’m sure I don’t need to impress upon you the severity of the penalty that will befall you if you discuss the matters that you are about to become privy to outside of these walls.”

Merlin would have gulped if he had the air in his lungs. Half an hour after Arthur had disappeared Merlin had been summoned to Uther’s study (Merlin had eventually wrangled the fact that this was a  _secret_  residence on the outskirts of Paris), and it was the look on Arthur’s face as they passed in the hallway that had drained Merlin of his strength. Arthur had looked at him as though Merlin were someone he’d never seen before, but was appalled by on sight; salt-wet tracks were evident on the Prince’s face, but he was stoically blinking back any further tears as he gave Merlin a wide berth.

“Merlin, do you understand me?” Uther turned now, stare as hard as the one he had fixed Arthur with earlier.

“Yes,” Merlin breathed, forgetting all need for an honorific.  _What did Arthur know? Why had he looked at him with such horror plain for everyone to see?_

“Good.” Uther nodded curtly. “I am sure you must be very confused about the events that took place earlier this evening. Furthermore there are some missing elements to the story I have been told that I hope you will be able to provide in order for us to build up a clear picture of the threat we are facing.”

Merlin nodded again. Uther… ** _didn’t_**   _know about him?_

“For centuries this kingdom, in all her magnificent forms, has faced threats beyond what is imaginable by the people she serve s,” Uther stood ramrod straight as he spoke with pride and it was not hard to believe he was born to be a leader. “Threats from other empires, traitors within the walls of the palaces themselves, and since the dawn of her existence this kingdom has fought off threats of  _magic_.”

Merlin didn’t have to  _act_  surprised; the way his mouth fell open, releasing a small gasp came entirely from surprise. Despite being convinced that Uther had found out about his magic, Merlin had rather stupidly ignored the fact that Uther might know about magic in general. Merlin felt slightly ill when he rapidly descended into questioning how naive he’d been himself thinking that magic wasn’t widespread…that he was somehow _special,_  as his mother had always told him; that Sophia and her father were a bit of a blip. Gaius had never really explained that magic users were potentially  _everywhere_.

I can see you’re surprised,” Uther continued to speak and Merlin was sure he’d missed a number of sentences already. “But I need you to explain very,  _very_  carefully, Merlin, how you happened to be there when the Prince’s life was once more in danger.”

If Merlin had had the brain capacity to do so his mind would simply have let loose a string of curses. He opened his mouth and not a sound came out. He started to feel the inability to take proper breaths creeping up on him the way it had with Arthur earlier.  _Fuck_ , thinking of  _Arthur_  did not help.

“Merlin.” The severity of Uther’s tone seemed to have lessened slightly. “I do not mean to suggest that you were involved. That would be entirely ridiculous.”

Merlin sagged. So much so he almost fell off the chair.

Uther didn’t appear to notice and/or care. “But I nee d to know what led you to the discovery of the Prince. It is imperative that we have an accurate account of the events in order to stave off further dangers – if you noticed something amiss, we need to know what it was.”

Merlin shook his head; partly because he didn’t know how to answer, and partly because this still didn’t explain Arthur’s face in the corridor. “Sophia,” Merlin managed to choke out eventually. “Sophia had seemed fascinated by the river when we walked through Paris. She wasn’t interested when Arth-,  _when the Prince_ , was explaining the history of the Louvre – she kept looking down into the water by the quay. It was a guess, really.”  _Where the hell had that come from?_ Merlin assumed it was a last ditch attempt of self-preservation.

It seemed to work. “Hmm,” Uther replied eventually. Clearly that was a genetic trait amongst Pendragon males. “Then you are far more observant than most, Merlin. Arthur’s security team was unable to locate him as quickly as you managed to – it was only through tracking your phone signal that they pinpointed your location.”

Merlin gawped. His phone had a  _tracking_  device in it. What the bloody hell kind of life had he stumbled into?

“Leon stated that he saw you pick up this.” Uther pointed to the staff Merlin had, for lack of a better term,  _wielded_ earlier; Merlin blanched at the memory.

“Yes,” Merlin nodded slowly. He could feel the magic radiating from the staff now that he focused on it; it was cold and powerful and  _calling to him_. He fought the urge to clamp his hands over his ears.

“What did you do with it?” Uther asked, his eyes boring holes into Merlin’s. “The security team did not see, in their haste to reach the Prince.”

“I….I…” Merlin dug his fingernails into his palms. “I waved it at Aulfric and when the tip touched his shoulder he disappeared. The same thing happened to Sophia.”

“You didn’t  _say_  anything?” Uther asked the question with the care of a man who knew exactly what he’d do if he got the wrong answer.

“No,” Merlin answered immediately. “There was just a blue light and then nothing.”

Uther continued to look at him. Merlin was sure multiple minutes passed before the King seemed satisfied with the story. “Then I thank you for your assistance once more, Merlin. The Prince owes you his life.”

“He owes me nothing,” Merlin replied. His eyes widened as he realised he’d let those words escape.

The calculating look was back on Uther’s face. “Quite. I don’t expect that you wil l encounter magic in the same way again - security is being stepped up as it appears the threats to Arthur’s safety are now more credible – but I need to know if there is anything suspicious in Arthur’s daily life. I cannot have the security and tradition of this kingdom thrown into chaos through the Prince’s actions, magically-induced or otherwise.”

_What?_

“As I said, you are observant. You seem to know Arthur well after only a short amount of time,” Uther continued. “I think it’s safe to say he trusts you. But trust is a dangerous commodity, Merlin, and must be handled delicately for the sake of all involved. I’m sure I can trust you to do what is best for the Prince, and for the sake of his kingdom, even if the decision is a difficult one to make.”

 _Oh. God._  Was this Uther’s  **stay away from my son**  speech? Because if so, Me rlin had expected heavy artillery and death, not a request.

“Merlin, I ask that you stay close to the Prince.”

_Okay, no, **not**  the  **stay away from my son** speech then._

“I’m sure I can rely on you to alert Leon if you notice anything amiss about Arthur’s behaviour, or if he behaves in any way that will bring questions to my door.”

Merlin didn’t nod, he didn’t shake his head either though. Not for want of trying, but more that he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was convinced that this was Uther’s circular way of asking Merlin to  _spy_  on Arthur.

Uther, like Arthur had a tendency to, took Merlin’s silence for agreement. “Good. You may go.”

Merlin didn’t need telling twice this time. He bolted from the room, Leon wait ing patiently for him on the other side.

“Come on,” Leon said taking in the ashen look on Merlin’s face. “I’ll take you to Arthur.”

“Is he okay?” Merlin managed to ask quietly.

Leon sighed heavily.

That would be  _no_  then.

 

ooOOoo

It had been twenty-five minutes since Merlin had arrived in Arthur’s room. Leon had hovered nervously for the first five or ten, but then had taken the opportunity to escape the tension in the room by announcing he had duties to perform. Merlin bloody well hated him in that moment.

“Arthur?” Merlin tried again. He’d been tempted to leave on a number of occasions, but the other boy had looked so lost he’d simply leant back against the wall once more and waited.

“My Father said you killed them.” Arthur’s voice was hollow, devoid of any emotion.

Merlin’s fingers grappled at the wallpaper behind him as his knees threatened to give way under the weight of Arthur’s words.

“He said he didn’t know how,” Arthur continued to stare into the fireplace, the golden tones of his hair catching the light, making him lo ok for all the world like a shattered hero. “But that you killed them. Both of them.”

“I…I don’t…” Merlin allowed his joints to crumple and he slid down the wall, pulling at his hair as he went. He gasped out broken sobs, curling his arms around his aching ribs. Every doubt he’d ever had about himself, about the purpose of his powers, about whether the universe had made some great mistake in choosing him for this task, forced themselves to the surface and consumed him wholly.  _He thinks I’m a monster._   ** _Am I_** _?_

Warm arms wrapped around him and he tipped forward bonelessly into the embrace. “You are  _not_ a monster. You are not a monster. Don’t ever,  **ever,** think that. And don’t let fucking anyone,  _anyone_  tell you otherwise.”

Awareness dawned. This was Arthur anchoring him to the earth; Arthur whispering comfort. Merlin pushed back against the chest he was resting on and Arthur, startled tumbled backwards taking his arms and his words with him.

Merlin scrabbled backwards until he was flush against the wall once more. Arthur was staring at him, tears flowing freely down his cheeks, hard breaths forcing past his lips as he tried to compose himself.

“Merlin…”

The floodgates opened. “I didn’t mean to kill them, Arthur. I didn’t  _want_ to. I didn’t want to, but it still didn’t stop me from doing it. There is nothing that could have stopped me from doing what I did tonight. I had to save you. I  _had_  to.”

“I know,” Arthur said softly. “I know, and that’s the problem, Merlin. You shouldn’t have been in that position. How am I supposed to just pretend that I don’t know what you’ve just sacrificed for me ?”

Merlin scrubbed at his eyes, an action he was becoming far too familiar with when it came to Arthur Pendragon. “I’d do it again.”

Arthur looked horrified again. “Merlin, don’t say that. Please don’t say that.” He lunged forward like a desperate man and took hold of Merlin’s hands, gripping them tightly enough that it actually hurt. “I need you to promise me that you won’t do anything like this in the future. I couldn’t live knowing that…”

Merlin looked at the broken Prince begging him. This was not what Arthur was supposed to be like. He could feel it in his bones, in his very soul, that Arthur would go on to do great things when his time on the throne came. He knew that with absolute certainty. Could he promise not to risk his life for Arthur again in the future?  _No._ Could he at least be honest with him? That he could do.

Now was the moment to explain everything, Merlin could sense that. Arthur had only just heard about magic – had only seen so far that it could be used for ill. If Merlin could explain that magic could be good, that  _his_ magic was there to protect Arthur then maybe Arthur wouldn’t have to worry so much. Maybe he could j-

“Merlin, I can’t pretend to understand the things my father has told me tonight,” Arthur spoke over the other boy’s thoughts, and something about his expression crushed Merlin’s resolve instantly. “But I understand now that this kingdom faces threats that cannot be explained. Threats that neither you nor I could begin to imagine. If anyone else had told me that  _magic_  existed I would have laughed in their faces, but this is my father, Merlin. He wouldn’t lie about something like this. I understand why he kept it from me for such a long time; I wasn’t ready to deal with the facts, not mature en ough in my approach to my role as the Crown Prince.”

Merlin shuddered. Something intangible fluttered around his mind, yelling that this wasn’t going to go in any direction he’d be pleased with. Arthur’s devastated expression had hardened slightly as he continued.

“But I know now that magic is another evil to add to the growing list of threats the peace of the kingdom, and the world, is facing. I will be expected to do everything I can to ensure that the scourge is wiped out,” Arthur nodded solemnly at the end as though he were fully convinced of his conclusion, yet his eyes held a question.  _Do you agree with me? Will you stand by me as I do this?_

Merlin felt something crack inside him. Arthur had known about magic for all of an hour,  _how_ could he possibly be so convinced of it’s evil already? How could Merlin ever expect to be honest with him now?

For the second time that night Merlin found himself unable to answer a question set by a Pendragon. And Arthur, like his father, took silence for agreement.

“Thank you,” Arthur squeezed Merlin’s hands and got to his feet.

Merlin looked up from where he lay sprawled against the wall. Arthur was pacing slightly, wringing his hands, looking perhaps as troubled as he had when he’d begun to speak about magic. He carefully pulled himself up until he was in a standing position.

“Merlin, there is one more thing…” Arthur clasped his hands and pressed them to his lips as he finally stopped moving.

Merlin closed his eyes for a long moment. “Yes?”

“Apparently earlier today I informed my father that I intended to marry Sophia,” Arthur’s voice was so quiet Merlin was straining to hear him. “N eedless to say he did not take this well, regardless of the fact I was under an enchantment.” Arthur shuddered at the thought.”

Merlin didn’t move. His heart had already begun to crumble, seeming to have preternatural knowledge of Arthur’s speech.

“He reiterated how important it is for me to make a good match, and to act in accordance with the traditions of the monarchy.” Arthur was looking at the floor.

“You’re doing this now?” Merlin’s question was little more than a breath.

“I must.” Arthur’s face was set, but Merlin could see his jaw was trembling slightly. “I am sorry for my actions earlier this evening.”

Merlin swallowed audibly, his hand rushing up to his chest. How could this all be spiralling so far out of control?

“I wasn’t thinking clearly,” Arthur continued , studiously ignoring Merlin. “We were both upset about what had happened and I should not have taken advantage of your position of weaknesses.

Merlin was glad he was holding his fingers to his chest, because it confirmed that the spasm he felt ripple through him at those words was real.

“I was selfish to act as I did,” Arthur’s lip was quivering and he was clenching his jaw to force his words out. “I trust you implicitly, Merlin. I need to know that I will have you there as counsel, as the friend I need you to be.”

Merlin’s hands finally flew to his face, covering his mouth as he shook his head. “Arthur, don’t do this.”

“I  _have_  to,” Arthur whispered brokenly, and for one short moment everything was laid bare in his eyes, before the wall went back up and Merlin felt he’d made no progress in getting to know this man. “It is m y duty to follow my father’s wishes, Merlin, particularly now that I realise the world is not as simple as I thought.”

Merlin bowed his head, unable to look at Arthur any longer.

“Merlin,” Arthur said softly, but the other boy refused to look up. “Merlin, believe me when I say I have never wished more to be  _just Arthur_  than I have in the last few hours. But I’m not, and I never will be.”

Merlin felt a thread of childish spite leap out of the darkness and twist itself around his tongue. “Well I’m not  _just Merlin_ , Sire, but I guess you’ll never know that now.”

It was immature,  _God,_ he knew that, but still he turned on his heel, wrenched open the door and had a brief moment of contentment when he slammed it behind him.

Leon didn’t comment on the tears that were soaking Merlin’s face and the red hoodie for that matter. He simply sighed and asked, “Merlin, shall someone drive you back to the hotel now or would you prefer to stay here? The King has given express orders for us to adhere to your wishes.”

“Hotel,” Merlin mumbled, running his hands over his face. He suddenly felt the need to rid himself of everything Arthur, so he wrenched the hoodie over his head and dropped it as a pool of red outside Arthur’s door. Merlin blanched at the sight, then followed a wordless Leon down the hall, trying desperately to block out just how much it looked like blood.

* * *

“You supported the Prince as a good friend that evening?”

“Yes,” Merlin kept his voice level, “of course I did.”

“Of course. And yet…” Morgause trailed off, that familiar smirk back in place.

Merlin refused to be baited. He was not going to ask where her ‘and yet’ comment was headed.

Morgause smiled at his small rebellion. “ _And yet_  you were not with the Prince when he was arrested in the early hours of the following morning.”

“It was a misunderstanding.” Merlin was lying through his teeth again. “Arthur was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Of course.”


	18. Chapter 18

“The Princess and I were very surprised to hear about Arthur’s arrest,” Merlin pursed his lips. “Obviously it was not something we expected.”

* * *

“Oh, thank God, Merlin!” Morgana bolted up from the sofa and threw her arms around him before he had even managed to close the door behind him. Merlin clung on just as tightly for a few minutes, the warmth and floral scent of Morgana’s perfume enveloping him in a state of safety.

“Leon’s explained what actually happened, even though he wasn't supposed to. Well, why he thinks happened,” she was whispering into his hair. “Merlin, you mustn’t blame yourself for what you had to do.”

Merlin didn’t have any tears left for Sophia and Aulfric, but he held on tighter nonetheless.

Eventually she took a step back, rubbing her bare arms with her hands to warm herself. She was wearing another evening gown; not the one that had been ruined as she fell to her knees beside her brother earlier. “Where’s Arthur?”

“Hiding.” Merlin spat the word out before he could stop himself. His eyes widened as he saw Morgana flinch at his tone.

“Merlin, what’s happened?” Morgana’s question was gentle as she took a very small step towards him

“I’m not supposed to tell you,” Merlin shrugged, a bitter chuckle tingeing his words. “You’re the only person who could probably understand everything that’s just happened, and I’m supposed to keep it to myself.”

“Are you going to?” Morgana asked, a frown creasing her forehead. She wasn’t forcing him to tell her, but was making it very clear that she wanted him to.

“Your father knows about magic,” Merlin sighed, his anger once more dissipating as he dropped into an armchair, head in his hands. “I mean, he  _already knew_  about magic. Before tonight.”

“What?” Morgana was still standing in the middle of the room.

“Your father sees magic as a threat,” Merlin ran a hand through his hair. “ _All_  magic.”

“Well that’s ridiculous.”

Merlin laughed disbelievingly at how serious Morgana’s response was. “It’s true.”

Morgana sat down heavily. “Well I guess that explains why he went mad when my nanny let us watch  _Fantasia_  once.”

Merlin shook his head. “How the hell are you related to either of them?”

Morgana smiled wryly. “A question I’ve often asked myself.” She held his gaze as she turned serious once more. “But, Arthur and I are more alike than either of us care to admit. He just hasn’t grown out of that hero-worshipping Uther phase yet.”

“It’s not just that,” Merlin shook his head. “Your father’s word is law in Arthur’s mind. Your father showed his distrust of magic and Arthur has sided with him  _wholeheartedly_.”

Merlin saw the moment when Morgana’s heart cracked. “Oh, Merlin.”

“I was about to tell him about it,” Merlin was back to playing with his cuffs. “To explain that magic could be used for good…that  _my_  magic was just for him. But I didn’t get the chance. Arthur hates magic because your father told him to, and by extension he can only ever hate who… _what_ …I truly am.”

“Merlin,” Morgana shook her head sadly, “you can’t really believe that. You must know how Arthur feels about you by now.  _God_ , he’s never been this obvious about anything in his  _life._ ”

Merlin nodded. “He trusts me. Wants me as counsel and friend. But nothing more.”

“No!” Mor gana shook her head emphatically. “That’s not what he wants.”

Merlin quirked his lips. “`He’s duty bound. And I’m getting sick of hearing about it.”

Morgana was quiet for a long moment. “ You know he doesn’t…” She shrugged, not entirely sure what her point was supposed to be.

“I understand it, you know” Merlin nodded grimly. “I wish I didn’t, but I do.”

“Doesn’t it make you want to just…” Morgana trailed off and waved her arms around. “I don’t know,  _throw stuff at his head_?”

Merlin laughed, a real one this time, and it hurt his ribs a little doing so. “It’s tempting.”

“I hope you’re not going to abandon me just because Arthur’s an idiot,” Morgana reached out and squeezed his hand.

Merlin gave her a small smi le. “Course not.”

“I know he’s an idiot,” Morgana nodded, “but I don’t know what I’d do without him, Merlin. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for what you’ve done.” She swiped at her eyes with her free hand. “He’s the only boy on the planet who can get me to cry.” Morgana laughed self-deprecatingly. “Don’t tell him I cried; I’ll never live it down.”

“Morgana, I really don’t think I can be friends with him,” Merlin was deadly serious. “I just about get my head to agree with the idea and then he goes and does… _something_.”

“I have no right to ask you, Merlin,” Morgana fixed him with an unblinking stare, “but if I could I would ask that you don’t leave him. He’s never actually had a proper friend before; he spent far too long hanging around with idiots at school, didn’t want to be seen with people who might actually have real priorities in life. People like Lance, I suppose. The world sees a self-assured young Prince; I see an idiot toddler with a confidence-complex and more social awkwardness than you can shake a stick at. I’m not entirely sure what you see, but it has to be worth something?”

Merlin knew when he was being manipulated. “But I-“

“Just stay close to him, Merlin,” Morgana pleaded. “If not for him, then for me. At least for a little bit longer.”

Something about Morgana’s words kicked Merlin’s brain back into action. He frowned.

“What?” She was studying him carefully.

“Your father,” Merlin ignored Morgana’s grimace, “he asked me to stay close to Arthur as well. Morgana, I think he actually wants me to  _spy_  on your brother.”

Morgana looked suitably horrified. “I hop e you told him  _no_.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Merlin shrugged sheepishly. “I ran away, but I think he’s under the impression I agreed with him.”

“Are you going to tell Arthur?”

“To be honest,” Merlin bit his lip,” I don’t think Arthur particularly wants to speak to me right now either. I wasn’t exactly understanding earlier when he…” Merlin waved his hands, because how did you explain what Arthur had done –  _warned him off? Broke up with him before there was something to break?_  “I slammed the door in his face, and then threw that red hoodie on the floor, so now the idiot’s probably going to storm out of his room and trip over it. Probably break his neck before I get a chance to yell at him again. He’s lucky my magic didn’t flare up and knock a wall down.”

Morgana surveyed him silently for a long whil e, but there was fondness in her features. “You, Merlin Emrys, are possibly as frustrating as Arthur.”

Truth be told, part of Merlin wanted to crawl under a rock and never return to face Arthur. But the other part, the part that his mother was yelling at in his mind, was feeling a little ashamed at how he’d acted earlier. No, Arthur shouldn’t be the one who gets to make all the decisions about their friendship (is that even what they had?), but Merlin was perhaps a little ( _a lot_ ) embarrassed about his tantrum now that he thought about it more carefully.

“Do you think my father’s ever going to tell me what happened?” Morgana asked, changing the subject as Merlin’s face began to flush. “Or am I supposed to believe the swill Clarence House will undoubtedly churn out if anyone gets wind of it?”

“I think the official line I’m to spin for you is Arthur and Sophia argued – she’s decided to take up a study opportunity for her final year and has wrangled it so that she can go now and study an extra module. She won’t be back at UA.”

Morgana snorted with laughter despite herself. “And everyone’s going to believe that?”

“Apparently so,” Merlin sighed again. “How have you lived like this your entire life?”

“You get used to it,” Morgana shrugged. “You learn to hide the real truth under well-crafted, and sometimes not so well-crafted lies. Always make sure to give a small truth to add credibility, stops you tripping over your web of lies later on.”

“I don’t think I could do that,” Merlin was firmly convinced of that.

“You’ll have to,” Morgana replied. “You managed to evade the press for the most part after Christmas because they were all so wrapped up with Arthur and that… _harlot_.”

“My mum always said I give too much away. I think I’d find it impossible.”

“Not impossible. You  _will_ have to speak to the press at some point. They’re interested,  _always_  interested. If you don’t give them a little of what they want, Merlin, they will hound you until they know everything.”

They were quiet together for a while, only the sound of a clock ticking and the quiet hiss of traffic far below them breaking the silence.

“Morgana, I’m sorry you had to go to that party tonight when Arthur was…”

Morgana smiled tightly. “It’s not your fault, Merlin. Sometimes I get to be as duty bound as Arthur.”

Morgana’s phone rang, startling them both. She looked at the caller id with a frown. “It’s one of Arthur’s lot. I sho uld answer it. Merlin, order some food, or eat some fruit or something, you must be starving.”

Merlin nodded as his stomach rumbled loudly in response to the thought of food.

“Owain?” Morgana answered the phone with a sigh. “Is Arthur hav-“

The apple he’d just appropriated from the fruit bowl froze in its ascent towards Merlin’s mouth at Morgana’s sharp intake of breath.

“He’s done  _what_?”

Merlin nearly dropped the apple completely; the acid in Morgana’s tone was unlike anything he’d ever heard come out of her mouth before.

“I assume Uther already knows.” Morgana snorted derisively. “Oh yes,  _of course_  that he wants me to do. No, no, it’s not your fault. Can you call Elyan and have him get the car? Yes, I  _am_  bringing Merlin.” Morgana dropped th e phone in her lap and growled in frustration, hiding her face behind her hands.

“Morgana?” Merlin asked timidly. He wasn’t afraid to admit she was really quite intimidating like this.

“Prepare to rethink your opinion of Arthur Pendragon once more,” Morgana spat. “He’s in a police station near the Trocadéro.”

Merlin’s mouth fell open and the apple finally took off on its inevitable tumble towards the carpet.

“Why does he have to keep having fits near bloody tourist hotspots?” Morgana was fuming as she stood up and headed for the door.

“What’s he done?”

“Decided to pick a fight with Leon,” Morgana snarled. “ _Leon_ , of all people. And he was too much of a gentleman to hit back.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Merlin breathed then covered his mo uth. “Sorry.”

“I think you were fairly accurate with that one, Merlin,” Morgana sighed. “The press is definitely going to have picked up on this, even if by some miracle they haven’t got wind of what happened earlier.”

“And you want me to come with you?”

Morgana nodded. “If only to stop me from killing Arthur myself.” She opened the door. “I’m going to get changed first. Find your passport. We’re probably not coming back here.”

Merlin nodded. “I’ll grab my coat.”

“You know, Merlin,” Morgana hesitated in the doorway. “Arthur wasn’t this much trouble until you came along. I have a really weird feeling about all of this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like somehow you were supposed to meet. Like this is the right time.” Morgana shrugg ed once more before leaving Merlin to his thoughts.

He really didn’t want to agree, but he was starting to think the same thing himself.

* * *

“So had the Prince just left the hotel of his own accord?”

“Yes, he must have slipped out while the Princess and I were discussing the charity dinner.”

“Right...After you retrieved the Prince the Royal party immediately headed for Calais, is that correct?”

“Yes.”  _Don’t think about that car journey, Emrys. Just don’t do it to yourself._

“What was discussed on the way?”

_Fuck._

* * *

Merlin was willing to bet that Arthur had never looked more sheepish in his life. That was his guess anyway: he was actually trying to avoid looking at Arthur at all so was relying entirely on speculation.

Since Arthur had been told that there would be no charges brought against him, the contempt in the police officer’s face evident, Morgana hadn’t stopped berating him. Merlin wouldn’t have minded entirely (feeling that Arthur probably deserved the string of verbal abuse being sent his way) aside from the fact he was wedged between them in the backseat. He was really sick of being stuck in the middle of things involving Arthur, both literally and figuratively. He also really wished that the Royals would invest in some larger vehicles – perhaps a practical (probably armoured) minibus, rather than a stupidly long, sleek car that still only fit five people in it. Or just let him make his own way home. Either option was preferable to this.

Leon, a black eye and a split lip glaringly obvious every time they drove under a streetlight, was sitting silently in the passenger seat; Morgana having forced him to travel with them instead of taking a second car. Elyan was ignoring everyone and pretending he really needed to concentrate on the road.

Merlin sank down in his seat, hunching his shoulders to disappear as far into his coat as possible – how the hell had he managed to get mixed up in this insanity? Apparently Uther was fuming; he’d ordered Elyan to drive straight to Calais where they’d be on a Eurotunnel train bound for Folkestone at five-thirty. He’d seemingly washed his hands of his son for now, and wanted nothing more to do with him until he’d had a chance to calm down – Merlin barely had time to be annoyed that he still hadn’t finished his essay and now wouldn’t have the long, expected train jo urney the next day to work on it.

He wasn’t completely sure why Arthur had thrown a strop, instead he’d been trying to block out as much of the shouting as possible; but the gist he’d got was that Leon had been bringing Arthur back to the hotel after some kind of further meltdown at Uther’s residence; Arthur had thrown the car door open when they’d stopped at traffic lights and Leon had been forced to chase after him – culminating in Arthur’s fist managing to find Leon’s face twice before he was restrained by a passerby.  _Which led to…_

“Don’t fucking speak to me until you’re ready to tell me the truth.” Thus concluded Morgana’s tirade. She turned away from her brother and looked out of the window, pulling her scarf up to hide her face. Merlin knew it wouldn’t be prudent to point out that Arthur hadn’t actually had a chance to speak yet (not that Merlin was siding with him, because he wasn’t).

Merlin held out for as long as possible before he chanced a sideways glance at Arthur. He frowned when he saw the expression gracing Arthur’s face; he didn’t look sheepish after all, he looked like he hadn’t heard a word of Morgana’s rant. He looked haunted.

Merlin did not have such an inflated opinion of himself that he thought he was responsible for such a countenance. Something had happened after he’d left. He knew Arthur had a temper, but to actually strike out at Leon, a man Arthur saw more as a friend than a bodyguard, didn’t sit right at all.

Despite the wretched look on Arthur’s face Merlin couldn’t bring himself to speak to him. He’d barely slept in days; he was hungry, he was cold, he was angry with Arthur, (annoyingly) worried about Arthur, (a tiny bit heartbroken about Arthur), and did he mention he was  _hungry_? He closed his eyes, willing himself to believe that he was imagining the faint trembling of the boy next to him.

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin was warm, and would have been quite happy to return to sleep if it wasn’t for the fact it sounded like a tractor had parked itself behind his head and was revving its engine in annoyance. He forced his eyes open and made to lift his head up; this was easier said than done as the tractor obviously had brought a friend of some kind, his sleepy mind surmised; a heavy, warm friend who was pressing down on Merlin’s head when he tried to raise it.

It didn’t take long for a semblance mortification to set in when Merlin realised the engine sound was snoring, and the snoring belonged to Arthur’s head, which was resting atop of his. Merlin’s own cheek was scrunched against Arthur’s shoulder and a familiar navy coat was bundled under his chin.

Shortly after that realisation Merlin noticed that Morgana was looking at him pointedly from her side of the car…which seemed further away than it had before he’d fallen asleep. Then Arthur snuffled into his hair and Merlin thereabout nearly died of shame when Morgana arched one perfectly manicured eyebrow.

“Well, hello there,” she smirked.

Merlin only grunted in reply. He had just discovered that the fingers of Arthur’s right hand were tangled with his own underneath the material of the coat. He tried to avoid taking too deep a breath, so as not to disturb Arthur and risk an awkward conversation.

“Just go back to sleep, Merlin,” Morgana whispered; even though he was half-asleep he could still hear the smirk in her voice. “We’re still not in Calais.”

Merlin’s traitorous body heeded her words, and with a quiet mumble he  _hoped_  sounded like a threat he felt exhaustion wash over him and gently pull him back into the depths of slumber.

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin was still warm the next time he woke up, but this time the tractor was hissing something – maybe it was a snake. A tractor snake. He shifted slightly and the warmth underneath him stilled. He could just about feel sleep calling to him once more when the hissing began again; then the hissing slowly transformed into words.

“Morgana I am  _not_  having this discussion with you now.” The sleep tractor sounded suspiciously like Arthur.

_Arthur._

Merlin fought the urge to open his eyes; grateful for the wool he could feel covering most of his face.

“You should be glad I’m talking to you at all, Arthur Pendragon,” Morgana whispered angrily. “After the way you’ve been behaving.”

“It was Sophia. I was-“

“Ye ah,  _enchanted_ , I know. Magic woman or whatever.”

“Enchanted? Don’t be ridiculous, Morgana. Magic isn’t r-“

“Merlin told me.”

 _Traitor!_ Merlin almost gave in to the urge to break up the conversation happening around him. He noticed she didn't point out Leon had half told her about magic too.

“He would, wouldn’t he.” Merlin knew an eye roll from Arthur when he heard one.

“You weren’t enchanted when you decided to use Leon as a punching bag.”

“Morgana,” Arthur sighed. “I don’t want to talk about that right now. Look, Leon and Elyan will be back soon and I want to apologise to Leon first before I talk about it with anyone else, alright? So can you just drop it?”

“It’s not  _Leon_  I want to talk about, and you know it. ”

Merlin felt Arthur fidget slightly.  _Oh_  and apparently their hands were still covertly interwoven.

“What are you doing with Merlin, Arthur?”

Merlin actually tried to make himself disappear. He’d often wondered if it was possible, and now seemed to be the perfect opportunity.

“ _Morgana_.”

“Arthur,” Morgana hissed pointedly, “for the last month you’ve either mooned around like a big girl’s blouse or stormed off in a temper – that is  _not_  normal behaviour. Not even for you. The only thing that’s changed in the past month is that Merlin seems to have become a permanent fixture in your daily life. Ergo…”

“It’s not my fault he follows me round.”

Merlin almost gave up the whole pretence once more to let loose an undignifie d squawk of disagreement, but Morgana beat him to it.

“Don’t you  _dare_  make light of his friendship, Arthur!” Morgana sounded positively livid. “He has saved your life  _twice_ , and what have you done? Hmm? You’ve been stringing him along, and I don’t like it.”

“I’m not stringing him along!” Arthur’s voice rose and he stilled completely once more. It seemed as though he was waiting for Merlin to wake. Merlin didn’t even breathe.

“Then what  _are_  you doing?” Morgana asked eventually. “Because the way I feel towards you right now, if you break his heart I’ll break your neck, little brother or not. Why can’t you just tell him how you feel? Properly this time, not some half-arsed attempt that leaves you both in a state.”

“How I feel?” Arthur’s voice seemed so small. “He’s my friend, Morgana. I’ve only known him a month.”

“Just admit, aloud, that there’s something there that can’t be,  _shouldn’t be_ , denied.”

“I can't!” Arthur murmured. “Do you know how ridiculous it sounds? I’ve known him a  _month_ , Morgana. And for most of that time I was apparently magically besotted with someone else. How can I admit that I think about him most of the time? Think about what ridiculous statement he’s going to come out with next? Or that, for some stupid reason known only to the  _fucking universe_ , that I suddenly care about him more than anyone? How can I admit that...” Arthur trailed off and the car was so silent Merlin thought he may have actually died and therefore would never hear the end of the conversation that had killed him. But then, “How can I admit that I don't know what I'll do if any harm comes to him?”

“Why can't you?”

“Because nothing can eve r happen between us.” Arthur sighed loudly. “To admit my feelings knowing that... _hurts_  too much.”

“ Who's to say nothing can happen?”

“’Don’t be dense Morgana, it doesn’t suit you,” Arthur sounded cross. “Can you really imagine father welcoming  _that_ piece of news over our next dinner together? ‘ _Oh by the way, father, I have some news. I seem to have developed feelings of monumental proportions for Merlin. You know, that **boy**  who keeps saving my life. Oh you don’t need to worry, I’m not actually gay, but it appears I’ve lost interest in anyone who isn’t Merlin.’_ Yes, Morgana, that sounds totally possible. And then what, you think I’ll just be allowed to marry him?

Merlin died.  _Again._

Morgana choked. “You want to  _marry_  Merlin?”

Merlin heard car doors opening before either Pendragon could say another word, or before Merlin could expire on the spot.

“Everything alright?” He heard Elyan say.

“Yes, why wouldn’t it be?” Arthur replied.

“Yes.” Morgana sounded strained.

“They’re putting us on right at the front,” a nasal Leon explained and Merlin took the opportunity to shift in his ‘sleep’.

Arthur immediately let go of the hand he was holding and Merlin felt the wool coat being hurriedly pushed in his direction in order to create the illusion that they hadn’t previously been sharing it as a blanket.

“Is he alright?” Leon asked. “He was starting to look like he hadn’t slept in days.”

“Merlin?” Morgana asked softly.

Merlin managed to make a small grunt in response.

“Just sleep,” Morgana replied gently, and Merlin felt himself being pulled towards her. “Just sleep for a bit longer. You deserve it.”

Merlin didn’t think he’d ever sleep again. His heart was hammering in his chest and he wanted to launch a substantial investigation into the conversation he’d just heard.

“Morgana, do you have Gwaine’s phone number?” Arthur suddenly asked, quietly as though he didn’t want Leon and Elyan to hear.

“Yes, but why would you need it?” Merlin could imagine the suspicious eyebrow arching taking place.

“I might have told him to stay away from Merlin if he knew what was good for him.”

Merlin didn’t even react to that statement. There were far too many thoughts battling for dominance in his mind.

“ _Arthur_.”

“Yes, I know, It was a bastard thing to do.”

“And why do you want his number now?”

“Gwaine’s not actually a total git,” Arthur replied. “I think he genuinely likes Merlin. I think, for the sake of everyone involved, they should maybe…”

“Is this you trying to be chivalrous Arthur?”

“It’s the right thing to do.”

“What if Merlin’s not interested in Gwaine?”

“Well at least then it will be his choice, not mine.”

“Arthur, I don’t…”

Merlin wanted to jump in the way he always would – remind them that he was actually a person with feelings that didn’t belong to the Royal family, despite what they were clearly beginning to think. But the tone of Arthur’s voice stopped him.

“Morgana,” Arthur sounded resigned. “I can only be his friend…If he’ll still have me that is.”

“Arthur,” Morgana replied, far more kindly than each earlier utterance of her brother’s name,“ I don’t think there’s ever really been any doubt of that.”

* * *

“Well?” Morgause quirked an eyebrow.

“I don’t really know what they talked about,” Merlin shook his head. “I slept the whole way.”


	19. Chapter 19

“The British press assumed that the Prince would be heading straight back to Albion after the  _incidents_ in Paris.” Morgause clasped her hands together and nodded gravely.

 _They weren’t the only ones who assumed that._ “Yes,” Merlin replied, “well, the King believed it would be more appropriate for Arthur to spend the weekend in London,  _away_  from the prying eyes of the media.”

“Yes.” Morgause’s mask slipped slightly and a brief sneer creased her features. “Going into hiding seemed to be the only choice he had.”

“It wasn’t  _hiding_.” Merlin shook his head, wondering for the millionth time why he couldn’t let a single barb against Arthur go. Even  _now_. “Arthur had experienced some difficulties in his private life and should have been able to begin to deal with those problems , you know,  _privately_.”

“And yet  _you_  were permitted to accompany the siblings to their private residence,” Morgause’s eyebrows arched as she pursed her lips. “Surely you should have been able to return to Albion without much trouble.”

“The Princess Royal graciously offered a guest room at the Palace,” Merlin spoke through gritted teeth. “Due to the change in our travel schedule I had been unable to complete a piece of coursework by the time we returned. Rather than wasting more time in the car, it was suggested that I complete the essay in London and email it to my tutor before the deadline that day. It made perfect sense.”

Morgause looked like she really,  _really_  wanted to argue with that. “I see. And it also made  _perfect sense_ for you to, in fact, stay for the whole weekend?”

Merlin sighed.

“Because, Merlin,” Morgause leant forward and her eyes flashed dangerously, “many people were very surprised to see you accompanying the Prince on a rare night out in the city that Friday evening; only twenty-four hours after his arrest in Paris.”

“Arthur needed to be with his friends,” Merlin responded as evenly as he could. Whereas the newspapers had already been full off stories regarding Arthur for weeks, it was that Friday night in Mayfair that had seen the rumour mill rumble into full force and for the tabloids to start chasing  _Merlin_  with equal zeal.

“And you were, of course, his  _friend_.”

Merlin did not,  _really did not_ , like the way Morgause phrased that response. He couldn’t react to the taunt though, as that would simply give weight to her poorly concealed accusation. “Obviously.”

Lady Astolat was also present that evening wasn’t she?”

Merlin nodded.

“And the Duke of Orkney was also part of your group?” One corner of Morgause’s lips lifted into a poor imitation of a smile. “Even though his relationship with the Prince of Wales had seemed… _frosty_ , when they met at polo matches during school.”

“Arthur and the Duke are close friends,” Merlin shrugged. “Their relationship as teenagers was nothing more than schoolboy rivalry.” He felt the need to punch one of the cushions jabbing him in the back; at the very beginning, back at Sandringham, Merlin would never have predicted that  _he_  would be exiled from Arthur and Gwaine, and the two of them would be the ones to have the lasting friendship.

“Well, yes, they are  _now_ ,” Morgause smirked. “But there was a suggestion after the evening in May fair, and indeed the weekend, that the Prince was unhappy with the attention you received from the Duke, who is, of course, well known for his flirtatious nature.”

“That is as ridiculous a claim now as it was then,” Merlin tried not to ball his fists, because it wasn’t ridiculous at all. “Surely this isn’t even relevant to the documentary, considering it’s  _gossip_.”  _Truth, truth, truth. So much bloody truth!_

“Context, Merlin,” Morgause laughed lightly. “Context is  _ever_ so important.”

* * *

Merlin stared at the flashing cursor on the screen in front of him; his eyelids felt tight, as though he hadn’t blinked in hours. Actually, when he thought about it, maybe he hadn’t. Sighing, he pressed his palms against his cheeks and allowed his eyes to slip shut.

_Charles discovers that Brideshead is a symbol of…_

**_How can I admit that I think about him most of the time?_ **

_Charles discovers that Brideshead is a symbol of…a symbol of…_

**_I suddenly care about him more than anyone_ **

_Charles. Brideshead. Symbol._

**_I don't know what I'll do if any harm comes to him_ **

_A. Symbol. Of?_

**_Developed feelings of monumental proportions for Merlin_ **

_Of?!_

**_I’ve lost interest in anyone who isn’t Merlin_ **

_Fuck knows._

**_You think I’ll just be allowed to marry him?_ **

“ _Bloody hell_! Three hours, Emrys,” he muttered to himself angrily as he saw that it was three o’clock. “Three hours to finish this.”

“Isn’t talking to yourself the first sign of madness?”

Merlin whirled around and almost toppled off the desk chair as the voice that had been invading his mind all morning (week? month?) startled him. “Arthur?”

Arthur Pendragon was indeed standing there, looking sheepish, tense and relieved all at the same time. Merlin vaguely wondered when he became an expert in identifying and categorising the facial expressions of discomfited princes. “How’s the essay?”

_The essay, Arthur. Really? **That’s**  what you want to talk about?_

“Fine,”” Merlin dropped his gaze to the floor.

“Merlin, I’m…” Arthur trailed off as he closed the door behind him, feet shuffling slightly.

Merlin waited silently. And waited. And waited. And then…

“My father told me that magic killed my mother.”

Merlin  _did_  fall off the chair; well, lurched off it onto shaky legs. His brain hadn’t authorised the sudden movement and in his surprise he stumbled backwards into the desk. “What?”

Arthur had never looked more serious, not to Merlin anyway. This revelation explained the haunted look on Arthur’s face in the car. Explained, perhaps, why he had opened up to Morgana, explained why he’d lashed out at Leon.

“Merlin?” Arthur asked quietly.

Merlin nodded. He didn’t kn ow  _why_  he nodded, but he was surprised his body could move at all at this point.

“After you…left,” Arthur was choosing his words carefully. “I went to see my father again. I was angry,  _so_  angry, that he’d kept magic from me; so angry that my lack of knowledge nearly got you killed.”

“ _You_  killed,” Merlin corrected.

Arthur ignored him, instead taking in a steadying breath. “I questioned him. Questioned his motives. Questioned his reasoning for believing that magic is wrong; surely, I thought, not  _all_  magic could be bad. Surely it just needed to be treated carefully.”

Merlin almost smiled at Arthur’s logic.  _This_ , he thought, _this is why you will be a good King, a good **man.**_

Arthur sighed. “But then he told me that my mother hadn’t died in th e way I thought, when I…” He ran his hand through his hair. “When I was born.”

Merlin could see how hard this was for Arthur, knew that  _this_  shouldn’t be the conversation they were having as part of their completely messed up friendship/relationship/whatever this actually was. “Arthur you don’t have to tell me.”

“I do, Merlin,” Arthur blew out a long breath. “I do. Because I can’t tell anyone else.”

Oh God, and  _that_  Merlin could understand. Knowing something that you wished you could share – just for the sake of making your life a little easier, a little more bearable. Of course it would be Fate’s idea to have Arthur’s newest secret completely at odds with the one Merlin had been holding his entire life.

“I can’t tell Morgana,” Arthur looked heartsick at that. “She can never know what happened to our mother, Merlin, I think it would de stroy her.”

Merlin wanted to yell. Wanted to tell Arthur that keeping secrets never came to any good. But then he remembered his mother’s words – ‘ _people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones, Merlin._ ’ Hypocrite.

“My father,” and Merlin noted the bite that accompanied Arthur’s words, “My  _father_  was desperate for a son, even though Morgana’s birth had been difficult for my mother. He was worried…”he stopped and leaned back against the door. “He was  _worried_  that Morgana wouldn’t be able to rule successfully when she ascended the throne; not without the danger of an ill-advised marriage hanging over her head constantly. So he consulted magic. Merlin, he put my mother’s life in the hands of a  _witch_.” Arthur barked out a slightly hysterical laugh.

Merlin very, very carefully, so as not to startle Arthur, pushed himself away from the desk and walked towards the wild-eyed Prince. He didn’t reach out to Arthur, just made his presence obvious. “Arthur?” he whispered.

“A witch, Merlin,” Arthur breathed. “I shouldn’t be able to use a phrase like that. Not in real life. Not in real life.”

Merlin slowly reached a hand out, unsure if it was the right thing to do, but the ache in his chest would not allow a friend to go through this alone. Arthur didn’t even flinch when Merlin’s fingers curled around his wrist; for once Merlin wasn’t worried about what Arthur thought of him, only that he could give him some support. “You don’t have to tell me this, Arthur.”

“I want to,” Arthur seemed to steel himself at that, though he didn’t shrug away from Merlin’s grasp. “A deal was made; they would ensure the creation of my life, my safe arrival into the world, but…”

Merlin knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what the agreement had been; it felt as though the knowledge was seared onto his very soul, burning him from inside. “A life for a life.”

Arthur nodded, breathing hard, fighting admirably against the tears that were no doubt threatening to leak from his eyes. “Merlin, my mother died for  _me_.”

Merlin had never really believed a heart could break, but at the broken look on Arthur’s face the sharp clench in his chest convinced him otherwise. Arthur had been keeping this to himself all day; had kept it to himself when Leon had tried to comfort him; when he’d been bundled into a cell in Paris; when Morgana had berated him for his treatment of Merlin; when Merlin had spent all morning worrying about stupid things that no longer seemed important. Not when Arthur’s heart and Arthur’s spirit had already been damaged so badly. Without another thought Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur and drew him towards him.

“Arthur you cannot blame yourself,” Merlin whispered, not even realising that he placed a chaste kiss to Arthur’s temple until after he’d done it. “Your mother would not want that. This is  _not_ your fault.”

Arthur heaved a sob, and Merlin could feel every muscle in the Prince’s body tightening to hold back the trembling. “My father blames me. I know he does. But it is… _his_  fault…not mine…I-”

“It is  _not_  your fault, Arthur.” Merlin wasn’t crying, he felt too hollow for that. “You are not to blame. I’m here for you. I’m your friend, just let go. I’m here for you.” Merlin repeated this mumbled mantra over and over again until it faded into nonsense as Arthur slowly quieted.

Arthur pulled back eventually. “God,” he laughed self-deprecatingly, “you must think I’m completely mad.”

Merlin smiled sadly. “Not completely.”

Arthur laughed despite himself, before sobering quickly. “I am  _truly_  sorry for w-”

“No,” Merlin shook his head vehemently. “Look, I think we’ve done quite a good job at messing things up.”

“ _I_ have.”

“ _We_  have,” Merlin nodded catching Arthur’s eye before he continued, “but I want you to know that I  _am_  here for you, Arthur, and I am your  _friend_. Even if I didn’t act much like it last night.”

Arthur scrubbed at his face, finally breaking contact between the two of them. “Merlin, I don’t know about you, but I would very much like to go out and get drunk right now. With you. If you’ll come with me?”

Merlin composed a lis t of six comprehensive points in his head as to why this would not be a good idea (Gwen would be proud):

1) Arthur should not be drinking after the worst twenty-four hours of his life.

2) Arthur had just been arrested for attacking his personal bodyguard/friend.

3) Arthur  _surely_ could not be thinking straight after learning about his mother.

4) Arthur  _surely_  could not be thinking straight after learning about magic. (He just wasn’t as practical as Morgana.)

5) Arthur was probably going to be hounded by the press

6) Merlin had a bloody essay to finish.

Merlin quickly composed a second list of why he was going to agree to this terrible,  _terrible_  plan. It was much shorter than the other list, in fact consisting of only one very important point:

1) Arthur had asked him to.

 

**ooOOoo**

“This isn’t quite what I was expecting,” Merlin mumbled, shivering in his coat four hours later. They were in Regent’s Park, the gates locked to the public hours ago, and Arthur was sprawled on a bench by the Boating Lake with a bottle of gin on his knee. He tugged his grey woollen hat further down, trying to ward off the cold biting at his cheeks.

“What were you expecting?” Arthur was perfectly lucid. He’d barely touched the gin, instead deciding to hold the bottle tightly and sip very occasionally.

“A pub? A bar?”

“I have parks, Merlin,” Arthur shrugged. “Why waste them?”

“Arthur,” Merlin shook his head, “are you sure you shouldn’t just be at home? I mean, you’ve had a lot t-“

“ _No_ , Merlin.” Arthur took a drink of gin, solely to prove a point. “I don’t want to be in the Palace. It reminds me of…” Arthur trailed off and slipped towards maudlin once more.

“Okay, Arthur,” Merlin’s teeth chattered. “Fine, but maybe we should go somewhere. There’s only so long you can pretend that Leon is okay about just letting you,  _the bloody Prince of Wales_ , lie on a park bench when it’s started to snow.”

“Has it?” Arthur looked up and sure enough tiny white flakes were starting to spiral through the air.

“Yes,” Merlin jumped up and down, feeling another text arrive on his phone (he just  _knew_  it was Morgana, but he’d promised Arthur not to speak to the Princess just yet). “So maybe we should just go somewhere inside?”

‘We could probably break into the café?”

“ _Arthur_ ,” Merlin’s tone was clearly a warning.

“What time is it?”

“Half-seven.”

“That’s far too early for a club.”

“Yes.”

“Right,” Arthur looked around, squinting in the dark.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for one of the recycling bins,” Arthur was waving his mostly-full gin bottle around. “Morgana was really keen to have them put in the parks. She’d kill me if I just put glass in a normal bin.”

Merlin was  _not_  smiling fondly despite the sounds of exasperation that escaped from his lips. He certainly did  _not_  grin when a triumphant ‘A ha!’ sounded from the shadows nearby, followed by the clinking of glass falling on glass.

“I have a plan,” Arthur bumped his shoulder gently against Merlin’s as they started heading toward s Marylebone Road.

“A  _cunning_  plan?” Merlin answered automatically.

Arthur tipped his head back and laughed; Merlin had never been more pleased to hear that sound, considering how fragile Arthur had been only hours earlier.

“I’m not Baldrick,” Arthur chuckled.

“So you’re Blackadder?”

“Do you want to be Baldrick or Darling?”

“ _Arthur_!”

“Okay, fine, you can be Queenie.”

“Prat.”

 

**ooOOoo**

_This is more like what I was expecting._

This, however, was also what Merlin had been dreading.

After Arthur’s cunning plan had culminated in Merlin being sent into a pizza takeaway while the car (the  _very opposite of non-descript_  car) had parked illegally outside, Arthur laughing to himself inside, they had eventually arrived at, what looked to Merlin at least, a townhouse in Mayfair.

It transpired that it wasn’t a townhouse, it was a club, with two incredibly intimidating men ( _tower blocks)_  manning the door. Arthur and Merlin were granted immediate entrance, a grumbling Leon following behind – he’d noticed a couple of flashes as they’d exited the car as had Merlin. Arthur, however, seemed oblivious.

The club had been empty for the first hour or so, giving Arthur the perfect excuse to drink as many different spirits as he could think of. And now… well, Arthur wa s just being far too obvious with his Princeliness. That was the only way to describe it; he was sprawled on a booth, somehow managing to look irritatingly regal and blink-drunk at the same time. A couple of girls with names like Gardenia or Persephone or Araminta hovered around him – Merlin didn’t really care what their names were, but he did not approve of their shark-like glances at the Prince.

Merlin was checking his phone nervously. Morgana had promised she would get here eventually – but she was currently trapped in a meeting at the Palace with Clarence House sorting out, as she put it, ‘ _Arthur’s arse up in Paris_.’ She had, however, promised that Elena would be there even sooner.

“Merlin!”

Merlin was so overjoyed to see Elena he couldn’t stop himself from jumping up from the table and throwing his arms around her. “Elena, oh thank God you’re here.”

“Sorry! I got trapped talking to some people by the bar. I could have been here half an hour ago but I didn’t want to make a beeline straight for Arthur.” Elena shot a dark look at the two shark/girls and nodded grimly. “Right. I’ll sort this out.” She let go off Merlin and walked purposefully towards Arthur.

“El!” Arthur grinned sloppily at her.

“Arthur,” she smiled in reply. “Can I sit here, or are you busy?”

“No, no, no,” Arthur replied waving his arms. Merlin was sad to note that he only  _almost_  swiped Gardenia/Persephone/Araminta/Whatever, in the nose with his careless movements. “You can sit with me.” He waved in the other girls’ faces. “Bye now, El is here so you have to go. I don’t think she likes you.”

The girls glared at Elena. Elena simply smiled back. Merlin thought he mi ght be a bit in love with her as the girls eventually sloped away.

“Arthur,” Elena dropped unceremoniously onto the seat next to Arthur and put an arm around his shoulders. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I’m…fine,” he smiled at her again, and then went back to looking at his drink, which was worryingly blue.

“Why don’t you just let Merlin and Leon take you home?”

Arthur shook his head. “Leon hates me. I punched him.”

Leon rolled his eyes and glanced at Merlin. “You can be sure that’s not the worst thing that’s happened to me when I’ve been babysitting him.”

“And Merlin...”Arthur trailed off. “Needs to be over there. Not holding hands.”

Merlin felt himself go cross-eyed when Elena arched an eyebrow at him. He held his hands up to show t here was no hand holding of any kind going on.

“Well, well, well.” Merlin’s eyes practically turned themselves inside out when he heard Gwaine’s Irish drawl behind him.

“ _There_  you are,” Elena shook her head.

“You’re here together?” Merlin waved between the two of them. He noted that Arthur was giving Gwaine a pointed look. (Gwaine was ignoring it).

“I can’t arrive somewhere like this on my own and then be seen with Arthur later,” Elena nodded seriously. “It’s bad enough that we’re going to be seen in the same place.”

Merlin looked around and noticed that the previously empty club had filled up to something that must be approaching capacity. It was hard not to miss the pointing and whispering that was taking place to the backdrop of a thumping bassline.

“I didn't know what to do,” Merlin shrugged helplessly. “Morgana thought you’d be able to help.”

“What we need to do is get him out of here,” Leon stated. “There’s enough of you here that we should be able to get him outside without too much trouble. It won’t look as bad if he leaves in a group – party rather than self-pity.”

Merlin frowned, but he knew Leon was right. It was exactly as Morgana had said – if the press saw Arthur out drinking on his own, or even with just Merlin, he would be accused of drowning his sorrows, acting irresponsibly etc. But if he was in a group, that made it just a bit more acceptable – even if he wasn’t going to be able to stand up straight after he downed the rest of the blue monstrosity he was swirling in his glass. Then again Merlin thought that the Press were probably gunning for Arthur anyway after his arrest only the night before.

Okay.” Leon hauled a mildly-complaining Arthur to his feet. “Let’s go, Arthur.”

“But…my drink.” He pointed, lips quirked down sadly, at the remains of the blue drink.

“You can have another one at home,” Leon muttered, ducking awkwardly as Arthur flung an arm over his shoulders. He turned to the others. “Merlin, can you run ahead and give the nod to Elyan; that way we can get Arthur into the car and leave straight away.”

“Is there not a back entrance we can use?” Merlin asked, worried by the number of people looking in their direction. Leon was doing his best to make it look like Arthur wasn’t swaying like a tree in a storm.

“Not where we can get the car close enough,” Leon replied grimly.

“Okay.” Merlin nodded and elbowed his way through the crowd of people towards the door. He gestured at a boun cer to open the door and waved to where Elyan was standing by the car. On Merlin’s signal he climbed into the driver’s seat, the second security team gliding into their places in the next car almost simultaneously.

Merlin ducked back into the club and looked around for the others. They were heading towards him; Arthur had Merlin’s hat on, pulled low over his ears. Merlin frowned; Arthur had looked dunk, but generally happy when he’d left, but now…

“Get off me, Leon,” Arthur grunted loudly, pulling his arm out of Leon’s grasp when they were only yards from the door.

“Arthur!” Elena hissed. “Just shut up until we get into the car.”

“Merlin!” Arthur called. “Merlin can keep me company. I like Merlin!”

Merlin was very aware of eyes following him; darting between his face and that of the pink-cheeked Princ e of Wales. “Okay, Arthur,” he said, forcing a smile. “Come on then.”

Arthur staggered forwards, catching his foot on Elena’s and tilting dangerously forward. Merlin reached out a hand automatically to stop the Prince careening into him, but then Gwaine was standing between them, fingers tight around Arthur, halting his plummet towards the tiled floor.

“Get off!” Arthur shrugged at Gwaine, but the Duke of Orkney wasn’t letting go that easily.

“Easy, Princess,” Gwaine smirked slightly, but Merlin was sure he could see real concern in his eyes. “Just ten seconds until we get to the car and then I’ll give you back to Merlin, alright?”

The door was pulled open and Gwaine manhandled Arthur towards the waiting car as casually as possible. He made sure to smile brightly at all the cameras being shoved in their faces despite the heavy snowfall . They all ignored the shouts of ‘Arthur!’ and ‘Your Highness!’ from the awaiting photographers.

“Get off, Gwaine!” Arthur was still struggling against the other man’s grip as they got to the car.

Leon stood as close to Arthur as possible until the Prince half-fell into the backseat of the car. “Merlin, get in, please!”

“Merlin?” Arthur was calling plaintively from inside the car.

Merlin shot Elena a small smile.

She returned it, though it didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Look after him, Merlin,” she whispered. “This isn’t what he’s like.”

Merlin knew that. He knew why Arthur was behaving like this, and truth be told it was breaking his heart.

“Merlin!”

Merlin shot Leon an apologetic glance and jumped in the car . The door was stopped from closing behind him as Gwaine’s hand closed around it.

“Do you need any help?” Gwaine asked, looking seriously at Merlin, no hint of humour anywhere on his face.

Merlin felt a hand clamp over his arm and looked down to see Arthur’s fingers curling protectively over his wrist. The Prince was shooting the Duke a murderous look and Merlin wouldn’t have been surprised if Arthur started shouting ‘Mine!’ just to spite everyone. Merlin sighed; he was  _not_  in the mood for this game again.

Gwaine nodded. “Merlin, I’m going to call in the morning. Make sure there’s nothing the Princess here needs taking care of.”

Arthur growled. Merlin muttered his thanks, shooting Gwaine a real smile of thanks. Gwaine gave a curt nod before shutting the door and slapping his palm against the roof twice.

“I hate when people do that,” grumbled Elyan from the driver’s seat.

“Alright?” Leon turned around to find Merlin watching a now-sleeping Arthur slide further down into his seat.

“Will be,” Merlin mumbled in reply, not looking away from Arthur.

“Merlin…”Leon trailed off. “What happened?”

Merlin looked across to see the worry on Leon’s face, evident despite the bruising around the man’s eye. “It’s not for me to say.”

Leon looked at Merlin appraisingly for a long moment before finally nodding slowly and turning back to face the road ahead.

Merlin risked one more glance at the sleeping Prince and sighed; blond tufts of hair, slightly damp from the falling snow were sticking out from under the worn grey wool. He closed his own eyes and began to drift into a light sleep as the heat in the car seeped into his bones.

_Merlin!_

He started awake. “What?” he mumbled.

Leon looked round in confusion. “Merlin?”

“Did you just call my name?”

“No,” Leon shook his head. “Nobody’s said anything.”

Merlin laughed lightly. “Must’ve fallen asleep.”

“I’m not surprised. We’ll be at the Palace in ten minutes.”

Merlin nodded and closed his eyes once more.

_Emrys!_

Merlin’s eyes snapped open once more. Nobody was speaking to him, so why could he –

_Merlin!_

Merlin looked out of the window at Hyde Park, rushing past in the darkness, the f lakes of snow getting heavier, gaining momentum as they tumbled to the ground. The voice seemed to be coming from behind the trees lining the edge of the park.

_Merlin. I’ve been waiting. It’s time._

Merlin shivered despite the heat of the car. What the hell was calling to him now?

* * *

“The Prince was not in a good state when he left Mayfair that evening.” Morgause stated, she didn’t need to question it – it had been fairly obvious that Arthur was deep in his cups that night.

“He’d had quite a difficult couple of days.”

“Yes…” Morgause arched her eyebrows again. “That seemed to happen a lot around you.”

Merlin didn’t deny it. What was the point? She was right.  _Again._


	20. Chapter 20

“Saturday was quite an interesting day for you, I’m sure,” Morgause smiled, eyes sparkling with delight. “Dealing with the fallout.”

“Yes,” Merlin replied. “Very interesting.”

* * *

_Merlin!_

Merlin jolted up from the cocoon of blankets he’d swaddled himself in. His breath was leaving him in harsh gasps and he held a hand to his chest as if to steady the violent thumping of his heart.

_Fire, blood, battle. **Everything**  had been consumed by fire._

“It was a dream,” he repeated over and over again in a whisper. “It was a dream.”

After a few minutes he managed to calm himself enough to reach a hand out, groping through the darkness in an attempt to find his phone (yet  _another_  one…Leon had looked quite chagrined when he’d handed it over the day before). Sadly his bedside table was not where he imagined it to be and Merlin fell to the floor in a graceless heap, the numerous blankets muffling his landing.

It was only when he managed to extricate himself from the tangled mess that he realised this wasn’t his room in Albion, it wasn’t his room in Ealdor either. He groaned as he remembered the night before; they’d had to practically carry Arthur to his room, Leon promising to check in on him regularly just in case. Merlin hadn’t been lucky enough to escape to bed; Morgana had cornered him for what she called a ‘chat’ and Merlin thought of as a ‘debrief.’

_“Uther is going to **kill**  him,” Morgana had hissed, still managing to look intimidating in a pair of flannel pyjamas and clutching a mug of tea. “He was told to come to London to lay low, not throw himself to the wolves.”_

_“It could have been much worse,” Merlin had replied._

_“Merlin. I think it’s time you had a lesson in Press Relations.”_

_“No, that’s okay,” Merlin had unsuccessfully tried to escape her clutches, her fingers grabbing his arm before he could back away from the table. “I’ll just head to bed if you don’t mind.”_

_And to bed he had gone._

_But only after Morgana had retrieved her laptop and forced Merlin to look at the photographs of Arthur leaving the club in Mayfair; in three hours the pictures had found themselves on several news website and innumerable gossip and social media sites too. Already the speculation had started, headlines screaming to all who would listen about Arthur’s ‘breakdown’, about how he was ‘straining under the pressure’ of his duty. And also, it would seem, about-_

Merlin killed  _that_  train of thought as he stood in the darkness of the guest bedroom and fumbled towards the wall, aiming to find a light switch before he stubbed his toe on some priceless piece of antique furniture.

When light did eventually flood the room, thankfully not at the cost of injury to any wayward limb, he managed to locate his mobile. He’d seen the missed calls from Lance (2) and Gwen (1) before he’d got into bed, but he had told himself it was too late to call back. The five text messages were new though.

**From: Gwen  
16th January 2011 01:03**

Merlin, what the hell? Gwaine  
and Arthur had a fight?

_What?_

**From: Mum  
16th January 2011 01:07**

Merlin Y are menfromthe Times  
asking me aboutyourboyfriends?  
Phonein morning!

 

 _My **what?**  _Merlin sank onto the blanketless bed, gripping the phone tightly.

**From Mum:  
16th January 2011 01:11**

X

Merlin almost laughed. His mum had obviously felt guilty about not sending her usual kisses at the end of the first message. He wasn’t sure if the capitalisation was accidental, or proof of annoyance.

**From: Lance  
16th January 2011 02:34**

M, there’s a crowd of journalists  
outside. When did Gwen call Arthur  
a ‘royal arse’?

 _‘Oh f-“_ Merlin breathed as he read, and then re-read Lance’s message. Merlin  _did_  remember her saying that. It was when they were at the Union. When he’d been drunk. When he’d said… _Oh God_ , how much had they overheard?

**From: Gwen  
16th January 2011 02:41**

Oh God, M. Someone heard  
what I said about Arthur. What do  
I do?

Merlin looked at the time and sighed. Six-thirty. He was getting sick of waking up at this time of day; he’d never had a problem sleeping, until he ‘d encountered the Pendragons. He scrolled to Gwen’s name in his phonebook and pressed ‘call’; it went straight to voicemail. When the same thing happened with Lance, Merlin cursed the day he’d agreed to not have a landline in his and Gwen’s flat.

He scrubbed a hand over his face before steeling himself and opening up a search page on his phone. He typed in ‘Prince Arthur’ and quickly changed the settings so that he would only see results from the past twenty-four hours.

_Oh._

_My._

_God._

Although he’d seen the photos of Arthur falling into the car the night before, and the one of him and Elena sharing a worried look, he had  _not_  seen the photo everyone seemed to be using this morning.

It had clearly been taken on a cameraphone  _inside_  the club, despite assurances from Arthur earlier in the evening that nobody ever got away with taking pictures inside that place. It was a shot of when Arthur had tripped over Elena and Gwaine had steadied him; there was a perfectly reasonable and rational explanation for the photo.

So of course the Press had turned that reason on its head and come up with a whole new way of interpreting that photo.

Merlin felt an internalised table list was the only way he could sort this ( _Christ, he was actually **becoming** Gwen under stress)_:

**What Merlin saw** **  
**

**1**. Merlin reaching out to stop Arthur falling.

 **2.**  Gwaine saving Arthur from faceplanting

 **3.**  Arthur looking drunk and surprised.

**What the camera saw**

1\. Merlin reaching out to stop Gwaine and Arthur fighting.

2, Gwaine angrily gripping Arthur's shoulder And blocking his path to Merlin.

3\. Arthur looking drunk and livid.

So, according to the British media Arthur was a possessive drunk ( _true)_ , he was drowning his sorrows about Sophia ( _false)_ , Arthur and Gwaine were fighting  _(false)_ , Arthur and Gwaine were fighting over  _Merlin_ (false, and now Merlin felt sick.)

He pulled a jumper on over his sleep t-shirt, glad that one of the Security team had returned to Kensington via the hotel in Paris so at least he had his clothes. He stuffed his sweatpants-clad legs into his faithful boots and pocketed his phone. He had no idea where his coat had disappeared to, but he felt the cold would do him some good.

He quietly opened his bedroom door and hoped that he could remember his way downstairs.

“Merlin?”

Merlin turned to see Elyan walking behind him down the corridor. “Sorry, I just wanted to go for a walk.”

“Of course,” Elyan fell into step beside Merlin.

“Can you get into the park from here?” Merlin asked.

Elyan quirked an inquisitive eyebrow. “You can, but why would you want to? It’s not even seven o’clock yet.”

“I’d appreciate the air.”

Merlin was glad Elyan didn’t just suggest he stuck his head out of a window. Instead he gestured for the younger man to follow him down a staircase and through a panelled gallery.

Elyan paused to speak quietly to a team of men standing near a large, wooden door.

“Merlin?” Elyan gestured him over and led Merlin down a tunnel behind the oak d oor. “You can use this door. The gates are already open to the public, but if you come back to this gate someone will let you in.”

“Thank you,” Merlin was genuinely grateful.

“At the risk of sounding like your mother,” Elyan frowned, “shouldn’t you be wearing a coat. It’s been snowing pretty heavily all night.”

“I’ll be fine,” Merlin grinned. “I grew up in Wales. We didn’t get much snow in the village, but we had some pretty cold winters.”

Elyan shrugged and opened the gate. “See you later then, Merlin.”

Merlin smiled slightly and stepped out into into Kensington Gardens, heading for Hyde Park, the snow crunching underfoot. He took a deep lungful of the crisp morning air and for one small moment he felt free.

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin’s sense of freedom was sadly curtailed only a few minutes after Elyan closed the gate (and Merlin had already begun to wish he had a coat).

_Merlin!_

Merlin’s feet froze, but his head whipped around wildly. He couldn’t see anyone else around, and the snowfall had been so heavy it looked as though the road that normally carried cars through the centre of the park was closed to traffic.

“Hello?” Merlin eventually called quietly.

_Merlin. I. Am. Waiting._

Merlin was slightly affronted that the disembodied voice seemed to be chastising him. He closed his eyes and concentrated on using his magic to find the source of the voice. As his lashes parted once more he saw a dim golden trail weaving through the park ahead of him. With a sigh, and only a fleeting thought fo r his safety, he followed the trail to the Serpentine Bridge. He gulped slightly as he watched the trail snake down the side of the structure leading to a partially-concealed door; a door that was only inches from the frozen water of The Serpentine itself.

Scrambling down carefully he pushed the door. Annoyingly it didn’t budge, and try as he might, Merlin couldn’t see a handle or indentation anywhere, just the outline of an entrance mocking him as it began to snow again.

_Merlin!_

“Bloody hell,” Merlin muttered to himself. He pressed his right hand against the stone. “ _Aliese_.”

He grinned slightly as the doorway revealed itself fully, clambering through with his head ducked down. The door closed behind him and for a long moment Merlin found himself entirely in the dark. He reached out a hand and was pleased when his fingers curled around a wooden torch.

“ _Bæl on bryne_.” The words came easier to him down here than they ever had before. He only flinched slightly as the torch burst into life.

There was only one way to go, so bracing himself for whatever lay ahead Merlin walked steadily forwards through the tunnel. He realised that the tunnel was taking him down, obviously below the water level of The Serpentine. He ended up turning a corner and Merlin tried to work out where exactly under Hyde Park he’d ended up. He swore he heard a tube train rattling somewhere in the distance.

Merlin had prepared himself for any number of sights when he turned the final corner; More Sidhe, very angry magic users, absolutely nothing (as this could all just be in his head).

He had not, however, prepared himself for what he was actually faced with.

Merlin’ s mouth dropped open, his feet rooted to the spot as a dragon blinked lazily at him.

“You always were good at arriving late, young warlock.”

Merlin managed to clamp his mouth shut.

“You were,” the Dragon fixed him with a pointed stare, ”however, rather more talkative.”

“Dragon?” That was all Merlin could manage as he felt his brain shutting down as it rapidly sped through the facts that Merlin now had to live with:

  1. The King knew about magic
  2. Magic had killed Queen Ygraine
  3. Arthur Pendragon was an incorrigible (wonderful) prat
  4. Arthur Pendragon was the target of evil magic on, what was becoming, a regular basis.
  5. There appeared to be a… _Dragon_.
  6. Said Dragon lived under Hyde Park



That would do for starters.

“Merlin?” The Dragon sounded long-suffering.

“How do you know who I am?” Merlin would have cheered the restart of his own faculties if he hadn’t had to focus all his energy on asking that one question (and remaining upright).

“Sit down, young warlock.” Merlin swore the Dragon actually sighed. “Before you  _fall_  down.”

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin didn’t recognise the number flashing on his phone screen as he scrambled back up the bank next to the Serpentine Bridge. He ignored whoever it was in favour of trying to keep breathing normally. The early –morning chill hadn’t lessened, even though the sky had lightened marginally and Merlin noted the time of the missed call as eight-fifteen.

He thought about the past hour of his life; how he’d been in a cavern under Hyde Park having a chat with a Dragon.  _Oh wait_ , and the Dragon claims to have known Merlin (and Arthur, and Morgana, and Uther…the list was endless) in the past.  _Oh!_   _AND_  the Dragon speaks in riddles, when he’s not too busy sighing at every question Merlin asks.

So that’s how Merlin came to find himself standing in calf-deep snow in a deserted Hyde Park wondering if he’d finally lost it. Because really….a prophetic, can tankerous DRAGON?

Merlin’s phone buzzed in his hand and he looked down. He had a text message:

**From +004476857656654  
16th January 2011 08:16**

Merlin. It’s Gwaine.  
Can you call me back when  
you get this? x

Merlin added Gwaine to his phonebook and sighed. He knew enough about Gwaine to be sure that if Merlin ignored the request the Duke would persist until he eventually gave in.

He looked at Kensington Palace in the distance and frowned. What did the universe want him to do? Run back to Arthur and deal with the media fallout? Actually try and process the fact he’d just had a conversation with a mythical creature? Call Gwaine?

His phone buzzing once more in his hand suggested the universe had made its decision.

“Hello?”

“Merlin!” Gwaine sounded unendingly cheerful for a man who was being implicated in some kind of Royal tug-of-war. “How are you on this fine morning?”

“I’ve been better,” Merlin grumbled, squinting in distaste as he felt the snow soaking through his boots again.

“Ah, so you and the Princess have seen the papers then?” Gwaine chuckled. “How’s it feel to have two men fighting over you, Merlin?”

“ _Gwaine!_ ”

“Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry at all. “Listen, I thought it might be an idea to have that drink, if you’re free?”

“Now?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

“Gwaine, it’s not even eight-thirty  _in the morning_.”

“Relax,” Gwaine laughed again. “We can get a cup of coffee.”

Before Merlin could reply his phone signalled that he’d received a text. “Sorry, Gwaine. Hang on one sec.” Merlin pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at the screen.

**From: Morgana**   
**16 th January 08:19**

Where are you?  
Clarence House is issuing  
a statement. You need to be  
briefed. Long day ahead. x

Merlin frowned again.  _No,_ he thought, shaking his head.  _Sod it!_ He’d had enough of protocol as it was. This wasn’t supposed to be his life; yes, he’d admit he was willing to put up with it for Arthur and Morgana, but not all the time, not right now. Not when there was a bloody great big DRAGON under his feet who was claiming that Merlin didn’t have any real choice about his life, his  _destiny_.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” Gwaine sounded confused.

“Yes, let’s get a coffee.” Merlin nodded even though the other man couldn’t see him. “I’m freezing to death in Hyde Park.”

“I’m right around the corner,” Gwaine was grinning, Merlin could tell. “I’ll meet you at the Lido. It’s just next to The Serpentine. It should be open.

“It is,” Merlin looked back over his shoulder. “I can see it. I’ll meet you there.”

 

**ooOOoo**

Gwaine looked about as far from a Duke as Merlin could imagine; he was wearing a ratty old rugby shirt, which was missing part of a collar, and a black woollen hat that had clearly seen better days.

“What?” Gwaine laughed when he saw Merlin cataloguing his outfit. “It’s incognito. I hate dealing with photographers before breakfast.” He carried on grinning as he bit into a Danish, crumbs flying everywhere. “Anyway, you’re not exactly Saville Row yourself this morning.”

“I’m not a Duke,” Merlin countered.

“I’m not being courted by a Prince.”

Merlin felt his stomach twist at Gwaine’s words, and a frown once more knitted his brows. “It’s not…”

“Merlin?” Gwaine looked apologetic. “I’m sorry. I was just messing with you.”

“Sorr y,” Merlin sighed running his hands through his hair. “It’s just been a really weird month or so.”

Gwaine nodded. “All this stupid press stuff will blow over in a couple of days. They don’t  _actually_  think Arthur and I are fighting over you, you know. They need to say something, otherwise they’d never sell any papers.”

“My mum was being harassed by journalists at one o'clock this morning,” Merlin sighed again. “Lance and Gwen have been awake all night with the media camped outside. It’s… _ridiculous_ , Gwaine. This isn’t the life I was born into. And there’s just too many secrets and too many rules, and I just want to go back to being dull Merlin Emrys who actually finishes essays on time and doesn’t have a phone tracked by the Secret Service.” He folded his arms and dropped his forehead down to rest on them.

“Hey.” Gwaine prodded him, b ut Merlin didn’t look up. “Merlin, you’re right. It  _is_ ridiculous, but it’s part of being friends with Morgana and the Princess.”

“His name is Arthur,” Merlin mumbled into his damp sleeves.

“Yeah, but Princess suits him so much better, don’t you think?”

Merlin looked up to see Gwaine shooting him a bright smile and Merlin had to laugh in response.

“Merlin.” Gwaine suddenly looked very serious. “Look, I don’t know if I should tell you this, but Arthur told me to-“

“Stay away,” Merlin flushed slightly as he waved his hand. “Yeah, I know.”

“He  _told_  you?”

“Sort of.”

“Right…” Gwaine ran his hands through his hair. “But then yesterday he called me. Gave me your number and told me to speak to you if I knew what was good for me.”

Merlin choked on his coffee, his eyes going wide in surprise and alarm. “What? He did what?” He wheezed out eventually.

Gwaine mopped at the table with a napkin. “Yeah, so I was a little surprised about last night.”

Merlin knew Gwaine was referring to the possessive hold Arthur had tugged Merlin into when Gwaine had been saying goodbye (thankfully the press had missed that bit).

“I don’t want to step on any toes,” Gwaine held his hands up in placation. “But I also don’t pussyfoot around. You tell me to back off and I’ll back off, Merlin.”

Merlin wished he hadn't eaten anything now; his stomach was once more tying itself in knots. How could there possibly be another thing to add to the list of Ridiculous Occurrences in Merlin’s New Life. Gwaine, Duke of Orkney,  _GQ_  cover boy extraordinaire (incredibly handsome even when dressed like a hobo) was seemingly asking Merlin whether he had a chance with him or not.

What was he supposed to say to that?

“If I’m going to mess something up for you and the Princess,” Gwaine continued, “I’d rather you told me now and I’ll steer clear. I’m a cad, Merlin, but I’m not a heartless bastard.”

“Nothing can happen with Arthur,” Merlin answered eventually, eyes closing. “But…I think I’m supposed to be part of his life, as ridiculous as that sounds.”

 _No, that wasn’t ridiculous_. Ridiculous would be telling Gwaine that the sodding dragon had informed Merlin his and Arthur’s paths were destined to lie together. Merlin knew exactly what Gwaine would say to the  _lie together_  comment, and was convinced the dragon did  _not_  share th at interpretation.

“So there  _isn’t_  anything going on then?” Gwaine asked, one corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

“No,” Merlin replied.  _But!_ His heart screamed at him,  _Merlin Emrys,_   _it is **not**_ _as simple as you’re making it out to be, and you know it!_

“So if I asked you if you wanted to do something tonight that would be alright?”

Merlin looked carefully at Gwaine’s hopeful face. He thought of the pain on Arthur’s face when he’d apologised for kissing him, the fragility of Arthur’s voice when he’d explained to Morgana that he  _couldn’t_  pursue anything with Merlin. He thought about the harassment his family and friends had received since he first met Arthur, surely it couldn’t be as bad with Gwaine. He thought about how he’d never be able to tell Arthur about magic , whereas maybe Gwaine could understand. Finally he thought of the conversation he’s had with the dragon – Merlin did  _not_  appreciate being told he had no choice about his life. Something had to change…maybe this was it? This would be the safety barrier he really needed to put between himself and Arthur. Right?

“Yes,” Merlin replied eventually. “That would definitely be alright.”

Merlin caught sight of the Palace through the window of Gwaine’s shoulder as the Duke smiled widely at him and Merlin tried to hold back the sigh threatening to escape. Would it be alright?

_No, probably not._

* * *

“Well?” Morgause lifted an eyebrow questioningly. “What happened?”


	21. Chapter 21

“The Prince and Princess had an engagement that evening and I also attended, at their invitation,” Merlin responded. “Which you well know, considering you wrote an article about that too.”

Morgause looked momentarily surprised at his snappish tone. Merlin gave himself one split second to feel good about his little victory, before he realised that she would probably create a way to punish him for that later.

* * *

“Merlin!” Morgana threw her hands up as the boy in question appeared at the other end of the corridor. She crossed her arms in a manner freakishly similar to her brother. At her frown Merlin stopped, a good ten feet of space between them. He’d only just got off the phone with a hysterical Gwen, and before that had dealt with his mother’s persistent questioning; he wasn’t quite ready for full on Morgana.

“I went for a walk,” Merlin said as neutrally as possible, and hoped she’d leave it at that.

 _Ha!_   _Merlin knew exactly where wishful thinking got him._

“Yes, that’s what Elyan said.” She tapped her foot twice on the tiles and surveyed him for a long moment. “So, how  _is_ Gwaine?”

Merlin nearly spat out the Polo he’d just popped in his mouth. “Pardon?”

Morgana tilted her head to the side and raised her eyebrows. “When you didn’t reply to my fifth text Leon went out to find you – just to make sure you hadn’t been mauled by wild photographers, considering they’re camped outside the gates here.”

Merlin nearly swallowed the Polo whole when the door behind Morgana opened and Arthur walked out just in time to hear his sister add, “He said you were at the Lido. With  _Gwaine_.”

The very worst kind of silence settled over the hallway; the kind that makes you feel like the air around you is pressing against every inch of skin in a concerted effort to smother its victims. Eventually Arthur shifted slightly and the quiet shattered.

“Leave him alone, Morgana.” Although he was talking to his sister, Arthur’s eyes didn’t leave Merlin. “Merlin, I trust you slept well.”

 _Crap,_ Merlin thought desperately. Arthur seemed to have slipped back into his Colin Firth impression, and it was far easier to have conviction in your decisions about handsome Dukes when you weren’t faced with a _particularly_  plummy-voiced Arthur. The fact that he was wearing a pristine white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to his elbows didn’t help either.  _To reiterate, Emrys,_ Merlin scolded himself,  _crap!_

Despite the many,  _many_ sentences rushing through his mind, Merlin didn’t seem to be able to get a single one out. Eventually he settled for nodding dumbly.

“There’s some people in here that would like to talk to you, Merlin” Arthur gestured over his shoulder.

Merlin nodded silently once more and forced his feet to unstuck themselves from the ground and lead him towards the siblings. He couldn’t help bu t notice the flash of betrayal in Morgana’s eyes as he neared.

“It’s okay.  _Really._ ” Arthur squeezed Merlin’s shoulder quickly. The slightly sad quirk of his lips left Merlin in no doubt as to what Arthur was referring to. The Prince’s eyes flickered over the other boy’s face for a few seconds. “Come on. We’ve got some rumours to quash.”

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin had been staring at the wall for such a long time he started to think his eyeballs were going to roll away in an escape-bid; the only thing keeping him awake was the light shivers caused by his still damp feet. The ‘people who wanted to talk to him’ turned out to be the Chief Press Officer at Clarence House, an intimidating woman named Annis, and her team of minions.  _Minions_ ; that was the only way Merlin could describe the four young assistants who hung off Annis’s every word.

 _Strike that_ , Merlin thought as he forced himself to look back at where Annis was still giving a stern lecture on the subject non-disclosure contracts, or something.  _Three_ minions hanging on every word, and one dark-haired boy who Merlin was sure was covertly texting under the table.

The boy looked up at Merlin, realising he’d been caught. He smirked slightly and rolled h is eyes. Merlin chuckled slightly and Annis’s eyes snapped towards him, glaring. Arthur kicked Merlin as covertly as possible and Merlin (embarrassingly belatedly) turned his chuckle into a cough. “Sorry,” he spluttered.

“Hmm,” Annis’ eyes narrowed. “I trust the arrangements are satisfactory to you, Mr Emrys.”

Merlin shot a sideways glance towards Arthur and frowned; the Prince was sporting an expression that suggested he wanted to throw something, but also that he was trying not to laugh. It was…. _unusual_.

“Yes?” Merlin tried.

“That’s settled then,” Annis stood, everyone else around the table copying her action. “Good day, gentlemen,” She shook Arthur’s and Merlin’s hands before herding her minions out of the room with her.

Arthur was still wearing that confusing look on his face as he sa t back down in the uncomfortable chairs they’d been sitting for the past hour. “I understand, you know.”

“Hmm?” Merlin was trying to remember anything Annis had said during the meeting, arching his fingertips against the table as he stayed standing.

“You and Gwaine.”

Arthur spoke so matter of factly that Merlin was taken by surprise; his knees chose that moment to assuage themselves of strength and he dropped into his chair with a startled  _Oof!_

Arthur gave him a smile, so small Merlin thought it was probably unconsciously bestowed. “I think you’re doing the right thing.”

“Arthur, I-“

“Just ignore Morgana,” Arthur carried on as if Merlin hadn’t spoken, though his eyes drifted down to watch his fingers worry a cuff. “She always overreacts.”

But Merlin knew Morgana wasn’t overreacting, because Merlin had also heard what Arthur had said in the car on the way to Calais. But he couldn’t tell Arthur that. Not now. Not  _ever_.

“So, tonight won’t be weird?” Arthur looked at Merlin earnestly. “Will it?”

Merlin had no idea what Arthur was talking about, but if the look on his face as anything to go by it was important for Merlin to give the correct answer. “No?”

Arthur frowned and then laughed slightly. “You didn’t listen to a word Annis said, did you?”

“I got lost after the thirteenth time she said confidentiality,” Merlin threw up his hands. Arthur laughed again, and for one moment it felt like everything was fine, everything was simple.

Arthur bowed his head. “Annis wants to be very firm about the speculation in the tabloid s; she’s releasing a statement this afternoon that explicitly states that Gwaine and I are  _not_ fighting, and you are most certainly not some kind of  _prize_.” Arthur couldn’t hide his distaste at the words, and Merlin remembered how Arthur had been so hurt at Sandringham over being seen as an object for people to tussle over. “Annis is going to make it very clear that you are a close and valued friend of my family.”

Merlin felt a warmth trickle through his veins at Arthur’s words, and the knot in his chest loosened slightly.

“Annis doesn’t want us avoiding the press entirely; she thinks that will look like an admission of guilt, even though there’s nothing to be guilty about!” Arthur tugged his hair. “She has also stated that the three of us will be attending the premiere of the new Steven Spielberg film in Leicester Square this evening,” Arthur pointedly looked away from Merlin .

“What?” Merlin went slack-jawed. “You, me and  _Annis_  going to the cinema?”

“No, Merlin,” Arthur looked slightly outraged, and rolled his eyes. “Don’t be dense. You, me and  _Gwaine_.” Merlin didn’t miss the way Arthur tensed slightly. “And it’s not  _going to the cinema_ ,  _Mer_ lin, it’s a film premiere.”

“I can’t go to a film premiere,” Merlin protested with a squawk. “That’s ridiculous. How will me turning up solve anything? I’m not even invited. This is ridiculous.”

“You said that already,” Arthur’s smile was slightly tight and it finally occurred to Merlin that although Arthur was using his familiar mocking tone, his eyes lacked the humorous sparkle they always had when he had a chance to tease someone.

“But…” Merlin trailed off. “I’m supposed to be back in Albion. Gwen’s having a meltdown.”

“Well she wasn’t very nice about me.” Arthur arched his eyebrows, but there was no bite to his tone.

“Well you hadn’t been very nice to  _me_ ,” Merlin responded unthinkingly. And then suddenly it was there again, the elephant in the room. In fact it was less like an elephant and more like an entire  _zoo_  of tangible awkwardness. Merlin sighed. “Sorry.”

“Annis wants you there officially to accompany Morgana.’”

Merlin’s eyes grew round. “I think Morgana wants to kill me as it is.”

Arthur smirked. “Well then, it’s a good job you’re quite adept at avoiding death.”

Merlin thought the unease would descend again at that, but he instead found himself on the receiving end of a pleading look from Arthur. He opened his mouth to agree and then frowned.

“What?” Arthur asked, pushing his palms down on the tabletop as he stood up.

“Um…” Merlin’s mumble trailed off into a lengthy silence. “I’m supposed to be meeting up with Gwaine tonight.”

Arthur flinched almost-infinitesimally. “Well he’ll be there.”

“Yeah,  _yes_ , but…” Merlin could feel his cheeks heating up. He’d agreed to meet Gwaine for a quiet drink in a pub somewhere,  _incognito_  Gwaine had said, and he hadn’t really thought about it past that. The whole point of him agreeing to see Gwaine was to put an end to whatever this  _thing_ with Arthur was and just be friends.

Arthur looked at his watch. “Annis has already had enough time to threaten Gwaine with, and I can assure you of this from personal experience, a wide range of particula rly novel and unpleasant outcomes if he chooses not to agree to her plan.” Arthur looked directly at Merlin. “So believe me when I say your evening plans now certainly involve smiling awkwardly for a large crowd of screaming women, and then sitting through two and half hours of explosions and swordfights…without popcorn.”

Merlin wanted to protest. He really,  _really_  wanted to protest. He was going to see what happened with Gwaine so he could at least  _try_  and reclaim some control over his own life. That was the whole point, wasn’t it? Destiny and Clarence House be damned, right? Right?

And yet he found himself saying. “Without popcorn? You’re the Prince of Wales, surely you can do something about that!” Merlin found he couldn’t regret his words though; they were worth it, just to see the tension in Arthur’s face relax slightly, the Prince’s lips curling up into a grin.

“Even  _my_  powers are limited when it comes to snack food,” Arthur ducked his head slightly. “At least I won’t just be stuck with Morgana for the evening. She’s unbearable at these things; keeps up a running commentary on the film the whole way through, but nobody dares tell her to shut up.”

Merlin laughed. “I can’t say I blame them.”

Arthur nodded, almost like he was trying to work up to something. Without warning he held his hand out to Merlin, eyes drifting to the floor. “Friends?”

Merlin looked at Arthur’s outstretched fingers for a long moment, telling his traitorous heart to be quiet, because this  _was_  the right decision. It  _had_ to be, for all of them. He wrapped his fingers around Arthur’s and found himself pulled to his feet. “Friends,” he managed quietly when Arthur finally looked at him.

“I better tell Morgana to take you shopping,” Arthur squeezed Merlin’s hand once before letting it drop. “You really can’t go to a film premiere looking like that.” He looked pointedly at Merlin, who admittedly  _did_  look like he’d been dragged through a very damp hedge backwards.

A tiny voice in Merlin’s head piped up to warn him that he was supposed to be distancing himself from all of this.

He ignored it.

 

**ooOOoo**

Shopping with Morgana was a nightmare. She had been speaking to him in clipped tones and avoiding meeting his eyes for nearly two hours when Merlin finally snapped.

“ _Fuck,_ Morgana!” Merlin growled as he balled his fists, slightly gratified to see the look of surprise on the Princess’ face. “This is  _not_  my fault. Not entirely, alright?”

Morgana’s eyes narrowed, her fingers curling tightly around the material of the tuxedo she was clutching. Her glance darted to the assistant who had been helping them peruse the dinner jackets; the assistant scarpered with a small curtsy and a promise to find some further alternatives.

“Merlin,” Morgana muttered in a dangerously low tone. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because…” Merlin tugged at his hair. He was tired, he was grumpy, he had gone beyond conf used weeks ago, and he was still shivering slightly. “How can you expect me to wait around for him forever?” He was practically hissing, but he couldn’t allow someone to overhear him. The trouble Gwen was in was testament to that. “I know you want him to be happy, Morgana, I do…but I won’t make him happy, I  _can’t_. He has a duty t-“

“Fuck duty,” Morgana snapped, six hundred pounds worth of Hugo Boss hurtling to the floor. “He deserves to be happy. Whatever he tells you, he is  _not_  happy. He doesn’t want to be your friend, Merlin. Never  _just_  your friend.”

“And how is that supposed to happen? Tell me that, Morgana! I wasn’t aware that princes were allowed to develop feelings for commoner  _boy_ s like me!” Merlin breathed harshly, pressing his hands into his face. His voice cracked when he continued, “I can’t…Morgana…I can’t keep on doing whatever i t is that we’re doing…” He broke off again, fixing his eyes on Morgana as he chose Arthur’s own words for his next. “Because for some stupid reason known only to the fucking universe, I care about him more than anyone.”

Morgana didn’t gasp, she didn’t even flinch at the words, but Merlin was sure she’d recognise them. He was right.

“You heard him,” she spoke quietly, her face softening immediately. “You heard everything he said, didn’t you?”

Merlin nodded silently.

“You know how he feels, and you’re…”

“I have to, Morgana,” Merlin took a deep breath to steady himself. “I’ve made a choice, and I have to stick with it. Arthur doesn’t deserve to be strung along either.”

“Why not just leave?” There was no accusation in Morgana’s voice.

“Because I can’t,” Merlin shrugged. “I meant what I said when I told you I thought my magic was for Arthur. But it’s not just that. It’s… _Arthur_.” He shrugged helplessly again. He couldn’t voice the way he felt when he thought about not having Arthur in his life in some capacity. “Does that make me selfish?”

Morgana searched his face for a long time. “No,” she shook her head eventually. “I think it makes you a self-sacrificing idiot. Both of you.”

Merlin couldn’t help the laugh that escaped.

“But Gwaine, Merlin?” Morgana tilted her head.

“Morgana, Arthur practically suggested it to you. You can’t-“

“That’s not what I meant,” Morgana held up her hand. “You don’t want to string Arthur along. But just make sure you’re not doing that to Gwaine.”

Merlin felt his mood deflate once more as Morgana leaned down to pick up the discarded jacket and hand it to him. He pasted a small smile onto his lips, but he could tell from Morgana’s face that it looked as strained as it felt. “I’m not,” he said eventually. But he ignored the flare of guilt that ignited something in his chest. “I’m not.”

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin looked at his reflection in the full-length mirror. As much as he did  _not_  want to admit it, Morgana had been right about the suit she’d forced him to try on just as they were about to give up, even it wasn’t quite as good a fit as the one Arthur had found for him at Sandringham it still made him look smarter than he every had in his life.

Didn’t stop him from feeling like a total idiot, mind. At least this time he managed to tie the bowtie without too much of a problem; he still used magic, of course, even though his arm was well on the way to being fully healed. He ran a hand lightly over where his scar was now covered by two layers of material;  _this_ , he supposed was what he’d been trying to tell Morgana. There was no point in Merlin just leaving, that scar on his arm would be a permanent reminder of what Merlin was willing to do to protect Arthur.

He felt like death warmed up, and he wasn’t entirely convinced that this was due to the fact he’d spent half the day with snow soaking through his boots; not when he’d only recently stepped out from under the steady stream of hot water in the shower. He thought he probably had a couple of hours before he needed to be ready to leave, so he shrugged off the jacket and loosened the tie again.

He dropped his head to his chest and took a deep breath. “It’s going to be fine,” he whispered to himself. “It’s going to be fine.”

He picked up his phone to simply check the time and throw it back onto the bed, but stalled when his hand closed around the handset. Without giving himself time to think he unlocked the screen and called his mum.

“Merlin?”

“Hi, Mum.” He hoped his voice didn’t sound as shaky to his mother as it did inside his own head.

“Merlin?” Hunith sounded concerned. “What’s wrong, darling boy?”

The motherly worry in her tone almost undid him. “I think…I mean…I…”

“Sweetheart, has something happened? Are you still in London?”

“I think I’ve made a mistake,” he whispered eventually. “And now I don’t know what to do to make it better.”

Hunith remained silent, knowing her son well enough to wait for him to continue.

“I like him, Mum,” he admitted. “I  _really_  like him.” He blew a deep breath through his lips.

“Arthur?” Hunith asked, speaking almost as quietly as her son had been.

“Mum, he likes me too,” Merlin replied eventually. “He doesn’t know that I heard him. He doesn’t realise that I know how he feels. Mum,  _he doesn’t know_  that I…”

Merlin was quiet for a long moment, but once more Hunith didn’t try to make him speak.

“He doesn’t know that I feel the same way.  _Exactly_  the same way.”

“Merlin,” Hunith’s voice was a soothing as Merlin had ever heard it. “I know this must be hard for you, but he’s…” Hunith trailed off, Merlin could tell that she wanted to help him, to support him as she always had, but he knew she would always tell him the facts plainly and allow him to make his own decision; Hunith was a stickler for facts.

“He’s the Prince of Wales,” Merlin sighed, finishing his mother’s sentence. “I  _know_  that, and that’s why I’m not going to say anything to Arthur. I can’t ask him to choose between me and his duty.” The words burned Merlin like acid, but he knew he was right. And, as much as he was loathed to admit it, he felt certain that the real reason he’d never ask Arthur to choose between him and duty was that he couldn’t face knowing that Arthur’s allegiance would always lie somewhere else. Jealousy didn’t suit Merlin, but it didn’t stop him from feeling it.

“What’s happened, Merlin?”

Merlin took a deep breath and prepared to tell his mother about the Sidhe. About Ygraine. About Uther. About Gwaine. About  _Arthur_.

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin felt marginally calmer as he leaned against the banister waiting for Morgana and Arthur to re-emerge from their bedrooms. This calmness, unfortunately, stemmed perhaps more from the fact Merlin really wasn’t feeling well and less that his mother had helped him to assuage some guilt. He closed his eyes, hoping to stop the sensation of burning that had started to creep up on him in the last few minutes. He was still shivering like he was chilled, but knew from a final glance in the mirror before leaving his bedroom that his cheeks were flushed pink with warmth.

“Merlin?”

Merlin slowly opened his eyes to find Leon looking at him in concern.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Merlin reached deep into his reserves to muster up a small smile. “I’m just tired.”

“Merlin.” Arthur .

 _God_ , Merlin thought,  _did you give him that voice just to torture me?_

“Merlin?” Arthur tried again. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look appalling.”

Merlin scrunched up his face as Arthur appeared in his line of sight. “Morgana picked it.” He waved uselessly in the general direction of his suit.

“I didn’t mean the suit,” Arthur smirked slightly. “The suit is… _almost_  perfect.”

Merlin wanted to cry at Arthur’s unintentionally (he hoped) appraising look. He wanted to cry like an overly tall, gangly, sobbing heroine in a bloody tower at the unfairness of knowing that this was  _it_. He’d have to put up with horrible Arthur’s horrible silky voice for the rest of his horrible, horrible life and not dissolve into a puddle. When had he become this pathetic? He’d spe nt nearly two decades carefully creating barriers and Arthur had carelessly knocked them all down and Merlin couldn’t quite find the strength to rebuild them.

“Merlin?” Arthur was frowning now. “Seriously, you look like death.”

“I’m fine,” he waved again. “Where’s Morgana?”

“Leon?” Arthur turned to the other man, who had been watching the exchange with a slightly bemused expression. “Could you possibly ask my sister to stop staring at herself in the mirror and hurry up?”

“Of course, Arthur,” Leon nodded. Merlin was sure that this wasn’t actually part of Leon’s job description but let it go.

“Now, are you going to tell me what’s actually wrong?” Arthur asked the second Leon disappeared around the corner at the top of the staircase.

“Nothing,” Merlin shook his head, and the world decidedly did  _not_  tilt slightly at his sudden movement.

“Are you shivering?”

“No.” Merlin flinched when Arthur briefly rested the back of his hand against Merlin’s forehead.

“Merlin, you’re roasting!”

“I’m just a bit run down,” Merlin laughed lightly. “That’s all. Too many early mornings courtesy of Royal incidents.”

Arthur frowned. “I hope you don’t think you’re going to Leicester Square.”

“You’re not my mother, Arthur,” Merlin frowned. “And I’m not four. Just give me some paracetamol and I’ll be fine.”

Arthur looked annoyed, then abruptly turned on his heel and walked away.

“Okay,” Merlin said slowly to the now empty hallway. He scrubbed a hand across his face and noted that Arthur was right, his face did actually feel rather warm.

“Ready to go?”

Merlin turned to see Morgana gracefully descending the staircase, Leon a couple of steps behind. He knew exactly what she was going to say when her frown deepened.

“I’m fine. I’ll  _be_ fine.”

“Right.” Morgana didn’t look convinced. “Of course. Do try not to keel over though, Merlin. If anything happens to you there’ll be a queue of people out for my blood; led by Annis.”

“She’s quite…intimidating,” Merlin tried to smile as Morgana hooked her arm through his and pulled him out into the cool night air. Merlin tried to not to sigh at the respite the slight breeze brought to his warm skin.

“I’ve seen grown men cower in fear after one of her lectures,” Morgana muttered, seemingly worried that Annis might pop out and overhear her. “She could probably bring an army to its knees if she was in the right mood.”

Merlin got into the awaiting car. “How many cars do you lot actually own?”

Morgana laughed. “I have no idea. They just seem to appear, even if you want to walk somewhere. Uther doesn’t like the idea of us going anywhere without a vehicle to hide in. Though how he thinks that would stop magic I have no idea.”

Merlin was  _almost_ surprised to hear Morgana talk of magic so casually. “You’re really not scared of magic are you?”

Morgana looked thoughtful. “No more so than anything else. Anything is dangerous in the wrong hands.”

Merlin wanted to smile at that, but Arthur chose that moment to climb in to the car (Merlin briefly noted he was trapped in the middle again).

“Here.” Arthur thrust a small box of paracetamol and a bottle of water at Merlin.

“For a long moment Merlin just stared at them dumbly. “Thanks,” he muttered eventually and tried not to be too irritated that Arthur pointedly watched him until he’d swallowed two pills.

“Tell one of us the second you feel any worse,” Arthur instructed, now seemingly unable to actually look at anything but the tips of his (admittedly very shiny) shoes.

Morgana sighed loudly and turned away.

Merlin slumped slightly in his seat and tried to pretend he was okay with this.

 

**ooOOoo**

“Merlin!” He found Gwaine grinning at him as he climbed out of the car. “God, you look like hell.”

Merlin scoffed slightly.

“Charming,” Morgana rolled her eyes at Gwaine as she looped her arm through Merlin’s in a proprietary manner once more.

“I meant it in the nicest way possible.” Gwaine ran a hand through his hair, grinning rakishly. “This isn’t quite how I saw the night going.”

“How  _did_  you see the night going?” Merlin wanted to expire at Arthur’s question, and to be honest he didn’t feel that would be too difficult.

“Princess!” Gwaine grinned. “And how are you?”

Arthur pursed his lips. “Don’t call me that.”

“Boys!” Morgana murmured through a wide smile. “Need I remind you Anni s will murder you if you don’t play nicely right now?”

Arthur glowered for one long second before he shot Gwaine his thousand-watt self-assured smile, the one Merlin recognised as Arthur’s public smile. “Gwaine.” He proffered a hand towards the Duke and smirked slightly when Gwaine shook his hand.

“For fuck’s sake,” Morgana hissed. “Come on Merlin, let’s leave the children here.” She tugged on Merlin’s arm and pulled him towards the red carpet. As they walked she bent her head close to his ear so he could hear over the steadily increasing screams of the crowd. “I don’t actually know what the hell you see in either of them right now.”

Merlin didn’t reply. He was too busy trying not to trip over his own feet as his vision was suddenly full of bright flashes of light, and he could no longer hear over the screaming girls, and boys.

H e knew what that meant. He turned slightly to see Arthur directing every ounce of Princely confidence and charm towards the crowd. Gwaine standing next to him, raffish in his dinner suit having forsaken a tie and a few buttons on his shirt. They looked for all the world as if they actually liked each other as they exchanged a grin.

“Merlin, don’t gawp,” Morgana squeezed his arm. Merlin immediately turned back to his ‘date’

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Morgana, I feel like hell.”

“I know,” she was looking at him in the way she normally did, the way that he’d missed all day; the fondness evident. “I’m sure the paracetamol will start working soon.”

“I don’t just mean that,” Merlin replied, feeling like he really needed to sit down. Or maybe just sleep for a week.

“I know that too,” Morgana said, still smiling at the crowd. “But if you don’t smile at the crowd, Annis will kill you herself, and there’s nothing any of us will be able to do to stop her.”

Merlin did as he was told. He smiled, but he didn’t mean it – not even a little bit.

 

**ooOOoo**

“Are you ever not going to be an arse about Gwaine?” Merlin mumbled, not really meaning for Arthur to hear the words.

They were standing together, both leaning against a wall near the box office. The film had finished fifteen minutes ago and they were supposed to be mingling; well Arthur was supposed to be mingling, Merlin didn’t care what  _he_ was supposed to be doing. ‘Death warmed up’ didn’t even begin to cover it anymore, and he was getting grumpy as the numerous explosions and action sequences in the film meant that he hadn’t been able to sleep. But here he was, trying to die quietly, and Arthur was steadily grumbling about Gwaine as he watched the Duke move through the crowd and chat to people.

“ _Excuse_  me?” Arthur asked, arching an eyebrow.

 _Hmm_ , Merlin thought vaguely,  _he’s not folding h-_

Arthur folded his arms. “ _I’m_ being an arse?”

“Yes,” Merlin sighed, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Considering you’re the one who told him not to call me, and then changed your mind about that. Do you ever stick to any of your decisions, Arthur?”

Arthur was silent.  _Very_  silent.  _Crap_. Merlin opened his mouth to backpedal but his brain was too sluggish to create anything past a vague squeaking sound.

“Did Gwaine tell you that?” Arthur asked eventually, tugging unconsciously at his tie.

 _Yes_ , Merlin’s mind cried.  _He did! He did! Just open your mouth and tell him that._

“Of course he did,” Arthur didn’t wait for a response, just shook his head. “Okay, I admit that was an arsey thing to do.”

“You do?” Merlin frowned. It made his head ache more.

“Yes,” Arthur sighed. “But look at him. He’s just left you here while he’s off being all… _suave_.”

“Arthur are you jealous?” The words tumbled from his lips before Merlin could catch them. He only meant them as a joke.

Arthur, surprisingly, just shrugged. “And here was me thinking you already knew the answer to that question.”

Merlin gulped, forcing his surprise back down his throat.

“I get this,” Arthur waved towards Gwaine. “I already told you that. It doesn’t actually mean I have to like it.”

“Why don’t you just tell me to bugger off?” Merlin asked, his feverish mind somehow thinking that was an appropriate question.

Arthur’s frown deepened. “Is that what you want?”

“No,” Merlin pinched the bridge of his nose as his head throbbed. “No, of course not.”

“Merlin?” Arthur’s blue eyes were now focusing entirely on his friend, concern clearly radiating.

Merlin knew he looked like he felt - completely wretched. He could feel a cold sweat prickling at the back of his neck.

“Okay, time to go,” Arthur stated, pulling his phone out.

Merlin didn’t protest as Arthur informed Leon they were ready to go.

“We can leave right now,” Arthur nudged Merlin’s shoulder. “Morgana will probably want to stay for a while.”

“Gwaine?”

Arthur sighed. “I’ll go and tell him.”

Merlin looked to where Gwaine was charming his way into the hearts of a group o f men and women Merlin was sure he’d recognise if his brain didn’t feel so fuzzy. He almost,  _almost_  told Arthur not to bother, but he couldn’t make himself do that. He already felt too much like a traitor.

Arthur smilingly joined the group and laughed, his hand landing on Gwaine’s arm harder than was entirely necessary as he excused them from the group.

“I’m taking Merlin home,” Arthur stated quietly as the pair of them reached Merlin.

“Stealing him from right underneath my nose, Pendragon?” Gwaine’s smile looked slightly forced. “Didn’t quite expect that from you.”

“Gwaine,” Arthur sighed, and Merlin had never seen him look so tired. “Look, it’s been a crap couple of days. Merlin needs to sleep – if it makes you feel better I’ll stay here and you can take him home.”

Merlin told himse lf to be annoyed at the way they were talking about him as I he wasn’t there. He didn’t have the energy so told himself to remember to be annoyed the second he felt better.

Gwaine looked at Arthur for a long moment, Arthur shuffled slightly under his gaze but jutted his chin out defiantly, the Duke seemingly made a decision. He blinked slowly and took a step backwards as nodded his head. “Look after him, Princess.”

Arthur frowned as Gwaine turned to Merlin.

“Merlin, mate, “ he ducked his head so he could see Merlin properly. “Give me a call when you’re back in Albion. We’ll go out for a drink, a  _proper_  one, that doesn’t involve canapés and photographers.” He leaned in slightly closer and dropped his voice. “I think it’s time for me to bow out gracefully, don’t you?” He gave Merlin a slightly sad smile, but immediately brightened it as he moved away. “Feel better.”

“Gwaine-“ Merlin cut himself off, He didn’t know what to say; he had the distinct impression he’d just been dumped without a date. He wanted to protest, or apologise, but something stopped him from doing either.

“Arthur.” Gwaine inclined his head as he looked at the Prince. “Don’t be a prick. It doesn’t suit you. Just remember that.” He ran a hand through his hair and with a small smile at the other two men returned to the crowd of mingling celebrities.

Arthur’s gaze followed the dark haired man as he seamlessly slipped back into the conversation he’d been having prior to Arthur’s intervention. Very slowly his attention drew back to Merlin who was now looking even more dejected than before. “Come on.” He nudged him gently again and nodded towards the side exit. Merlin watched as the Prince sought out his sister in the crowd, waving his phone at her and pointing at Merlin. Morgana must have understood because she nodded; Merlin was baffled because Arthur’s hand gestures had made absolutely no sense to him at all.

“Arthur?” Merlin muttered as Arthur’s hand landed gently on his shoulder and manoeuvred him out on to the dark side street where the car was waiting.

“Just get in the car, Merlin,” Arthur sighed and Merlin did just that. “We’re going to go back to the palace. You’re going to sleep, and then when we get back to Albion we’re going to sit down  _far away_ from my meddling sister and we’re going to have a conversation, because frankly I don’t know what to do anymore.”

* * *

“Princess Morgana didn’t leave with you, did she?” Morgause asked pointedly. “It was just you and the Prince?”

“And the Prince’s security team,” Merlin grumbled. “Morgana was engaged in some very important discussions relating to her charity work. Prince Arthur accompanied me as I wasn’t feeling well.”

“That was nice of him.” Morgause smirked and Merlin had never disliked her more.

“That’s what friends do.”


	22. Chapter 22

“Prince Arthur appeared to consider you as his closest friend for a long time,” Morgause twirled a pen through her fingers. “Did you reciprocate?”

Merlin opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

* * *

Merlin pressed his head against the window, trying to extort as much of the glass’ coolness as possible. Arthur had been completely silent since they had climbed into the car earlier. It was taking far too long to cover the few miles between the cinema and the Palace for Merlin’s liking; they’d been sitting at a junction somewhere near Hyde Park Corner for what felt like an hour, but was probably closer to ten minutes while a grit spreader and a coach had an argument (Merlin only knew where he was because his fuzzy brain had latched onto the illuminated Underground sign and it had stolen his focus entirely).

“Owain?” Arthur was calling softly to the driver. “Can we detour down Brompton Road?”

“Of course, sir,” Owain replied. “Will you want me to stop?”

“Yes.”

Merlin groaned quietly. Of course  _now_ would be the time for Arthur to decide he wanted to go on some late-night jaunt in Knightsbridge. The car swung to the left and Merlin’s forehead bounced off the window as the world lurched around him, Owain taking the opportunity to navigate the car down residential streets. Merlin could feel the car slipping slightly on the icy road beneath and almost-unconsciously pushed some of his magic down to the wheels to keep it steady.

“Here’s fine,” Arthur said a few minutes later.

“What do you need, Arthur?” Leon asked.

“I’ll be two minutes, Leon,” Arthur replied. “You can stay in the car.”

“Of course I can,” Leon scoffed, “and you’re father will have my head if anything happens to you.”

“How likely is it that there’s an assassin lurking in a pharmacy at eleven o’clock at night?”

Merlin wanted to tell them to shut up, but he didn’t have the energy. He just pressed his cheek uselessly into the rapidly warming glass and sighed.

He heard Arthur get out of the car and shut the door. He was slightly amused to hear the front passenger door complete the same motions a fraction of a second later – it seemed Leon was going to ignore any protest Arthur had.

Owain was wonderfully silent for the few minutes he was alone in the car with Merlin, and Merlin attempted to make a mental note that would involve him remembering to thank Owain for not being obnoxiously loud like the other two.

Leon and Arthur’s return was as noisy as their exit; Arthur was complaining about how medicines should come in better flavours, and Leon was cheerfully relaying how he’d bought two bags of Maltesers for eighty-five pence.

Merlin ignored Arthur when he asked him how he was feeling.

As a child Merlin had rarely been ill, the same throughout his teenage years. But then he’d been one of the initial victims to suffer a nasty bout of Fresher’s Flu in his first year at Albion, and then had a repeat performance the following October. He still hadn’t got used to feeling ill, the way it made his magic slightly unpredictable (slightly  _more_  unpredictable at any rate), but he knew that silence was good; not thinking was even better.

An immeasurable amount of time passed before the car arrived outside the Palace. Merlin was able to spare a brief thought towards how ridiculous it was that he’d just arrived at a ‘palace’ (again) before he felt Arthur tugging him away from the door.

“Come on,” the Prince said quietly. “If you don’t move back from there you’re going to fall face-first onto the gravel when Leon opens the door.”

“I can open the door myself,” Merlin mumbled, refusing to open his eyes again.

“Right,” Arthur scoffed.

The instant the door opened Merlin found himself leaning towards the cold air that was now billowing into the car, a few snowflakes landing on his cheeks allowed for small moments of bliss.

 _“Christ_ , it’s freezing!” Arthur complained, his voice now coming from somewhere in front of Merlin.

“It’s lovely,’ Merlin muttered with a frown.

“Oh great,” Arthur sighed as he pulled Merlin stumblingly to his feet, “you would be one of  _those_  people, wouldn’t you?”

“Hmm?” Merlin asked as Arthur put an arm around his shoulders and hurried him towards the open door of the Palace.

“Delirious ill people,” Arthur responded when they had reached the stifling (to Merlin at least) warmth of the entrance hall. “I bet you have weird nightmares and scream blue murder in the middle of the night.”

“No,” Merlin replied mulishly.  _Yes_.

The next few minutes were an exertion filled haze of discomfort as Merlin tried to divest himself of his dinner jacket halfway up the stairs, his legs wobbling so much that he almost tumbled backwards, and would have taken Arthur with him if the Prince’s reactions had been any slower.

Arthur pulled him closer, his arm tightly clamped around Merlin to restrict his movements. “Do try not to strip off in the hallway, Merlin,” he said quietly, but there was a definite note of mocking lacing his words. “The staff will tell my father and he’ll have a  _fit_.”

Merlin grumbled nonsense in response but avoiding pulling at his clothes until Arthur pushed him into the guest room he’d been staying in, before depositing him in an inelegant heap on top of the covers.

‘I’m going to get you some water,” Arthur sounded like he was shouting, but that was unlikely. Merlin scrunched his eyes up against the sound anyway, burying his face into the soft duvet. “Get into bed.”

Merlin’s mind was too tired to do anything but obey. He rolled off the bed in a manner that could only ever be described as ‘undignified’ and tried to still his fingers as much as possible while he peeled off his horribly expensive suit, leaving it to pool on the floor before pulling on his sweatpants and sleeping t-shirt. He might make fun of Arthur for the ridiculous amount of things that people do for him on a daily basis, but Merlin had to admit he was pleased to feel freshly-washed material against his skin; one of the housekeepers clearly having been appalled at the snow-ruined clothing he’d left drying over a chair when Morgana had dragged him to the shops.

It only took a few seconds for Merlin to no longer feel like he was burning up and for his teeth to start chattering in earnest. He pulled a jumper quickly over his head and climbed under the multitudinous blankets that made up his bed.  _God, when had it gotten so cold?_ He closed his eyes and willed sleep.

“No! Give me those!”

Merlin moved as fast as his aching head would allow when Arthur yelled; the Prince pulling back the covers and proffering a glass of water towards Merlin in one swift motion.

Merlin looked dejectedly up at Arthur, scrabbling feebly for a blanket. “I’m bloody cold, Arthur. Stop being such a prat.”

“Merlin.” Arthur spoke sternly and Merlin was once again reminded of the similarities between Prince and Princess. “You have a temperature; you need to drink water. Take these,” he held out two tablets. “They’re ibuprofen. And you need to try and stay at a normal temperature.”

Merlin, who was also horribly reminded of the way Gwen bossed him around when he was ill in Albion, dutifully swallowed the pills with a gulp of water.

“I can’t believe you would be so stupid!” Arthur looked really quite cross when he took the glass from Merlin and placed it on the bedside cabinet. “Traipsing around in snow only days after you threw yourself into a freezing river.”

“That’s not how you catch a-“

“Shut up, Merlin!”

Merlin  _did_  shut up. But not because Arthur asked him to. He ached and he was tired, and he wasn’t afraid to admit (in his mind) that he wouldn’t mind seeing his mum right about now. He closed his eyes again, giving up hope of pulling the blankets out of Arthur’s grasp where he still stood by the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“Sleeping,” Merlin replied eventually with a sigh. “Go away.”

“No,” Arthur prodded Merlin in the arm. “You need to drink some more water first.”

“Bugger off, Arthur,” Merlin muttered. “I need to sleep.”

There was silence and for a very long moment Merlin thought Arthur had actually left. He cracked open an eye to check and found the Prince still hovering awkwardly, holding a carrier bag.

“What?” Merlin sighed.

Arthur put the bag down on the bedside table as well, shifting its position when it threatened to topple off. “There’s medicine in there if you need it.”

 _Emrys,_ Merlin’s mind whispered where it would usually shout,  _the little jaunt to Knightsbridge was for you._

Arthur scratched the back of his neck when Merlin didn’t reply (Merlin hoped he wasn’t actually making the cow eyes he thought he was). “You have your phone. Text Leon if you need anything,” he said eventually. “Or me.”

Merlin grunted in assent. He wanted to say thank you properly, but he couldn’t force his lips to form shapes.

“Sleep well, Merlin,” Arthur said quietly, turning and heading towards the door. Before switching the light off he paused and looked back to where Merlin was watching him with one eye. “Don’t even think about pulling up those bloody blankets, Emrys. I’ll know if you do.”

The room winked into darkness as Arthur closed the door. Merlin would have grinned if he wasn’t already asleep.

 

**ooOOoo**

Despite the fact it was the second time it happened, Merlin was  _not_ prepared for when his body upended itself from the bed and collided with the hard wood of the bedroom floor. The bruises that would form later would pay testament to the fact that he sadly didn’t have the blankets to protect him this time around. He barely noticed the impact, though, as he was too busy flailing for his life, an unearthly scream ripped from his lips just before the back of his head made contact with the floorboards, a split second after his back had done so.

The door to the bedroom practically exploded from the impact it received from the other side. Leon, and Owain, both of them with offensive weapons in their hands, barrelled in and within seconds were tensed to pounce.

Merlin blinked slowly at them, early daylight assaulting his senses as he tried to slow his breathing to a decidedly more normal pace.

Leon’s eyes were darting around the room, stilling eventually upon realising that there was no danger. “Merlin?” He hurried to the sprawl of limbs and knelt.

“Sorry,” Merlin mumbled, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “Not really sure what just happened.”

Leon helped him climb to his feet and settle onto the edge of the bed, head in hands. Merlin sucked in a deep breath; his head was pounding in time with his heart, and he could feel his magic sizzling just below the surface. He’d dreamt again of a burning landscape, the screams of men and women still rattling through his mind, each one more diabolical than the last.

“I thought you said you didn’t have nightmares?”

Merlin’s eye snapped towards the door, where Arthur was clearly going for irritated, but was coming across as mildly annoyed, mainly concerned. His eyes were wider than they should be, and his hair looked like he’d rolled out of bed and run from his room without touching it.

Merlin sighed, feeling a flush creep across his cheeks. “Sorry. Sorry. I’ll keep the screaming like a girl to a minimum next time.”

Leon looked at Merlin questioningly for a long moment, before his gaze wandered to Arthur. “Arthur?”

“It’s fine, Leon. You can go.”

Merlin dropped his eyes to his hands, which he’d folded in his lap. As he heard the door click closed once more he allowed his eyelids to droop and he fell backwards onto the bed with a grimace.

“Here.”

Merlin squeaked in surprise at Arthur’s voice. He opened his eyes and found Arthur looking at him, shaking his head, as if he was being confronted by an exasperating riddle instead of his sort of ill friend.

“Sorry,” Merlin muttered taking the glass from Arthur once more. “Again.”

Arthur dragged the chair from under the desk across the floor, the legs creating a grating sound that went straight to Merlin’s still tender head. When the chair was a couple of feet from the edge of the bed Arthur dropped into it, resting his elbow on the arm, his hand under his chin. “You know, Merlin. You’re really quite… _annoying_ aren’t you?”

“Has anyone ever told you what a  _brilliant_  friend you are?” Merlin grumbled as he scooted back onto his pillows. He was gratified that Arthur didn’t try to stop him when he pulled the covers up to his chin. “Prat.”

“You’re clearly feeling much better,” Arthur smirked.

“I wouldn’t go quite that far,” Merlin replied, gingerly touching the back of his head.

“It must have been quite a nightmare,” Arthur said eventually. “I’m surprised Morgana didn’t hear you, even if she is on the other side of the building.”

Merlin shrugged. “Must have been.” He shivered involuntarily.

“You don’t remember it?”

“No,” Merlin said sharply, and he knew Arthur didn’t believe him from the way his eyes narrowed. Merlin cut him off before he could question him further. “Shouldn’t you be off doing Princely things rather than sitting here interrogating me?”

Arthur snorted. “Princely things?”

Merlin shrugged again. “Yeah. Whatever it is that you do when you’re not getting into situations where I need to jump in and save your life, or when I’m not giving you an excuse to leave really boring film premieres early.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and reached for the carrier bag he’d brought last night. He upended it onto the bed and Merlin laughed. The contents included three different types of cough syrup, various throat lozenges, a cold compress (with a very angry looking child on the box), a box of ibuprofen and a large box of tissues. Oh, and two packets of Maltesers.

“I didn’t know what to get,” Arthur said sheepishly. “You weren’t exactly being forthcoming about your symptoms.”

“Maltesers, Arthur?” Merlin grinned.

“They were for me,” he shrugged, extracting one of the packets from the bed. “Sustenance in case I had to sit in here all night mopping your brow.”

Merlin blushed. “ _Not_  actually a damsel in distress Arthur.”

Arthur grinned maddeningly, opening the bag of chocolate and popping three in his mouth at once.

“Have you even had breakfast yet?” Merlin asked, his expression growing more incredulous as Arthur simply tipped the rest of the bag into his mouth, as he shook his head ‘no’. “You look like a chipmunk.”

Arthur waggled his eyebrows as he chewed noisily, appearing to enjoy every time Merlin gave him a slightly disgusted look. Eventually he finished crunching. “I’m the Prince of Wales, Merlin. I can have chocolate for breakfast if I want.”

“You’re in a bizarrely good mood this morning,” Merlin arched an eyebrow suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Arthur shrugged. “Am I not allowed to be happy that my best mate is feeling better?”

Merlin’s eyes widened at Arthur’s casual phrasing.Arthur just smirked a little more.

 

**ooOOoo**

“Really, Arthur, I can just take the train,” Merlin grumbled as Arthur pulled his holdall out of his hand and put it in the boot of the car.

“Why would you do that?” Arthur looked baffled as he herded Merlin away from him and round to the car door.

Morgana was staring stonily at the two of them from the doorway of the Palace. “I don’t know why the pair of you can’t just stay an extra day.”

“ _Because,_ ” Arthur was gleeful as he addressed his sister, “Merlin isn’t very well,  _and_  needs to go plead his case with one of his tutors in the morning. So I’m really sorry that we can’t be here for when Lady Helen and Vivian arrive.”

“That’s Merlin’s excuse, Arthur,” Morgana’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “What’s yours?”

“You want poor old Merlin to travel back on his own?” Arthur made a mock sad face. “He might get lost and you’d somehow make it out that it was my fault.”

Merlin bristled when Arthur patted him on the head. “I hate you.” He gave one last small smile to Morgana and got in the car, pulling the door closed behind him. He shrugged off his coat and folded it up in the middle seat to his left. Arthur had been more tactile than usual since that morning and Merlin felt the need for a barrier; even if was one made of cotton and wool.  _Do **not**_ , Merlin warned himself,  _think about Arthur and coats and cars._ Despite Arthur’s proclamation that they needed to have a ‘conversation’ the night before he hadn’t actually made reference to it at all since then.

“I love you too,” Arthur shouted cheerily at his sister. Merlin watched Morgana through the tinted window as she made a very rude and very un-Princesslike gesture at her brother.

Merlin was actually quite startled (he might even admit to another squeak) when Arthur opened the door he was leaning against, rather than going around to the other side as expected

“Move over then,” Arthur said, clearly having lost all sense of propriety and respect for personal space. He nudged Merlin until the dark haired boy once again found himself sitting in the middle seat; his coat forlornly crumpled next to him.

Merlin picked up the coat so he could slide to the other side, but a hand on his arm stopped him.

“Where are you going?” Arthur asked, looking like he genuinely couldn’t understand why Merlin was moving.

“I’m going to sit over there,” Merlin tilted his head to gesture at the far window, thankful that the world had remained blissfully still for a few hours.

“Why?” Arthur asked.

Merlin didn’t really have an answer for that so just sat where he was, pointedly ignoring the way Arthur’s shoulder was pressed against his. “We all spend far too much time in this car.” He announced for a lack of anything better to say when Owain and Leon took up their usual places.

“Arthur,” Leon turned to face the Prince. “Gal called, there’s quite a crowd outside the house in Albion. Morgause Gorlois is there too.”

Arthur’s face darkened immediately.

“Who?” Merlin asked.

Arthur rolled his eyes and looked out the window as they pulled away, leaving Leon to explain. “Morgause Gorlois is a journalist.”

“The Devil,” Arthur hissed.

“That too,” Leon continued. “She’s been following Arthur around since he started at Eton, looking for any story she can.”

“Wait,” Merlin thought back to the myriad of articles Morgana had shown him on Friday night, “it was her article that  _that_  photo was attached to first, wasn’t it?”

Leon nodded grimly. “She’s had it in for Arthur for the past two years.”

“Why?”

“Because she made up some fucking lies about Elena and I and I challenged her,” Arthur spat. “Took her to court; she lost her job. Unfortunately the tabloids  _all_ wanted to give her a job and now her chief goal in life is to catch me when I make a mistake.”

“She’s a bitch, basically.” Leon said, and Merlin had to laugh, because he never thought he’d hear well-spoken, noble Leon ever say anything like that.

“I want her gone before I get there, Leon,” Arthur growled. His previously cheerful mood had dissipated entirely and he reached into his pocket, put in his headphones and pressed play on his phone in one fluid motion.

“Best mates,” Merlin muttered to himself, turning away as the car eased into London’s traffic. “Yeah…”

 

**ooOOoo**

It took Arthur an hour to get over his sulk, eventually proffering an earbud to Merlin so they could share the music. Merlin frowned when the music blared at him, and was gratified to see Arthur turn the volume down to a reasonable level with a slightly guilty expression.

“Arthur,” Merlin’s frown deepened. “Is this Morgana’s angry girl music?”

“No,” Arthur said, but he was grinning slightly. “Alright, yes. But don’t tell her that it’s actually quite good, particularly when you’re pissed off.”

Merlin smirked and shook his head. “I didn’t think this was quite your thing.”

“Oh,” Arthur arched his eyebrows in a challenge. “Alright then,  _Mer_ lin, tell me what you thought my  _thing_  was.”

Merlin studied the Prince for a long moment. “Hmmm…the answer you’re looking for, Your Royal Highness, is  _Eighties’ power ballads._ ”

Arthur’s sputtered denial was too long in coming and Merlin burst into laughter before Arthur could utter a word.

“How?” Arthur managed eventually.

“You were really drunk on Friday,” Merlin replied. “You had a bit of a sing song to that one from  _Top Gun_.”

Arthur looked outraged. “I did  _not!_ ”

Merlin patted Arthur’s hand lightly. “I’m afraid you did.”

“Yes…well…” Arthur’s eyes were huge. “You  _recognised_  it as the song from  _Top Gun._  That’s got to be worse.”

“No,” Merlin shook his head with a laugh. “I only know that because Nerys, you know Mum’s neighbour, used to be obsessed with Tom Cruise before she moved on to Richard Gere. She used to make Will and I sit through it when she babysat for us.”

Arthur was quiet for a long moment, seemingly mulling something over.

“What?” Merlin shook his head.

“Will’s your friend?” Arthur asked carefully.

“Yeah,” Merlin waved his hands vaguely. “We’ve known each other since we were in playgroup. Our mums ended up joined at the hip so it made sense for us to be that way too. He didn’t want to go to uni though. He’s got a job in Cardiff.”

“So he’s your best friend then?” Arthur asked, not quite meeting Merlin’s eyes.

Merlin studied Arthur for a long moment. “Sort of,” he said. “He was my  _only_  friend for quite a long time.”

Arthur pursed his lips.

Merlin chuckled. “Arthur, are you jealous?”

_WHY DID HE KEEP ASKING THAT? SURELY **ONCE**  WAS ENOUGH?_

Merlin cringed as Arthur remembered him asking the same question at exactly the same moment Merlin did. “ _Again_ ,” Merlin ran his hands through his hair. “I actually didn’t mean that like it sounded.”

“Owain can you pull in at that services in half a mile?” Arthur was studiously ignoring Merlin.

“I can,” Owain replied. “Can I ask why?”

“I want some sweets,” Arthur replied.

Leon frowned at him over his shoulder, but Arthur studiously ignored  _him_ too.

Owain pulled the car off the motorway and parked near the entrance to the busy main building. Owain joined in the studiously ignoring, but he chose to ignore the double yellow lines instead of the car’s occupants.

“Are you going in?” Leon asked Arthur when Arthur just sat there unmoving.

“Can you please get me some Rolos?” Arthur asked him. “I would really like some Rolos.”

“Okay,” Leon spoke slowly, as though he was talking to a small child. “I’ll just go and get…your Rolos.”

“Thank you, Leon.”

Leon gave Merlin a look, to which Merlin shrugged, and got out of the car.

Merlin turned to Arthur to ask him what he was doing.

“Owain?” Arthur suddenly piped up again. “I meant to ask Leon for a bottle of water as well. Would you be able to get one for me?”

“Arthur I shouldn’t leave the car,” Owain replied.

“It’s fine, Owain,” Arthur waved a hand airily. “The other team are parked behind us. Nothing will happen. Please, I think Merlin really needs some water.”

Owain sighed, but got out of the car, ignoring Merlin’s protests.

“Arthur, what the bloody hell are you doing?” Merlin shot the Prince an appalled glance.

Arthur took a deep breath, but remained silent.

“Arthur?”

The Prince remained completely still for one long moment before running a hand through his hair.  _“Oh,_ fuck it _.”_

Merlin didn’t even have time to blink as Arthur lunged forward, wrapped a hand around the back of Merlin’s neck and drew him in for a kiss.

* * *

“Merlin?”

“Hmm?” Merlin shook himself slightly.

Morgause’s eyes narrowed. “I asked you a question. Did you consider the Prince to be your closest friend?”

Merlin ran a hand across his face, feeling a weight settle in his stomach. “Actually, I think I need a break. Excuse me.”

Merlin bolted up from his seat before Morgause could protest and ran from the room, his arms flailing ever so slightly in desperation.


	23. Chapter 23

Merlin ran straight past the room he’d left his friends in. He suddenly felt as though he couldn’t breathe. Just thinking about the ways Arthur had shown everyone, had actually shown the  _world_ , that Merlin was his best friend twisted a knife in Merlin’s heart that had been lodged there since his final ‘conversation’ with Arthur.

“ _Jesus Christ, Merlin. If nothing else I thought you were my **friend**.”_

His heart thudded as he picked up his pace, blindly running down the sweeping staircase until he burst through the doors onto the pavement. God, he hated being back in London. Particularly when he knew Arthur had just arrived back from a visit to Denmark with Morgana (he didn’t  _want_  to know that, but the internet and his television had felt it necessary to bombard him with that piece of information) and was only a few miles up the road, ensconced within the walls of Kensington Palace, probably in the very room where Merlin’s world had come crashing down around him. It probably looked a bit different now though; the news presenters had made comments about the extensive work and restoration that had been carried out after-

_Just stop think about it, Emrys. Don’t torture yourself. Arthur’s safe. Morgana’s safe. That’s what matters. Better that they’re alive to be able to hate you._

_To hate you_. Merlin scrubbed his hands across his face again and stifled the shout of frustration that was threatening to burst out of him. He hated Morgause more than he ever had. He didn’t need to be reminded of how something wonderful began, not when it had all gone so horribly wrong.

He extracted his phone from his pocket and dialled a number he hadn’t sought out in a long time.

* * *

Since Paris, Merlin had even less of a clue about where he stood with Arthur. One minute the Prince was pushing him away, and just as Merlin took a step backwards Arthur would reach out and tug him back into his orbit. It didn’t take much for Arthur to do that; Merlin was reminded of how ruined he was every time Arthur graced him with a real smile; ruined for anyone else (quite probably  _ever_ ) and with the problematic symptom of being damn near unable to breathe properly.

But  _ruined_  didn’t even begin to cover how Merlin felt when Arthur pressed his lips to Merlin’s in the otherwise empty car. Last time they’d kissed (although Merlin didn’t feel that counted, not anymore), it had been a little more than a gentle pressure of lips, chaste and warm. But this,  _this_  was a whole different world of kissing – for a long moment Merlin hadn’t done anything, too startled to breathe, let alone kiss back. But Arthur had been persistent, fingers tightening their hold on the curling tendrils of hair at the base of Merlin’s neck, his other hand reaching up to hold Merlin’s face with a thumb grazing over his cheekbone.

His mind scrabbled uselessly for anything to latch on to; words, sounds, pictures, it didn’t matter, but just  _something_  that would anchor him to the earth for one moment to allow him to process what was happening. His mind eventually gave him one word:

_Stop._

Eventually his fingers latched onto the material of Arthur’s jumper and gave him solid enough footing to push the Prince away from him. He had to stop him;  _want_ was threatening to overcome him, but self-preservation was paramount right now; he couldn’t let Arthur pull him in and then push him away again.

Arthur’s cheeks were pink and his eyes held a wild look that Merlin tried to catalogue and file away for further inspection later.

“Merlin?”

“Arthur, what are you doing?” Merlin’s voice was barely above a whisper. He heard himself waver, but there was nothing he could do to strengthen his voice, not when all of his energy was trying to hold back the magic that wanted to leap from inside him and encompass Arthur in a cocoon of warmth and affection.

Arthur smirked slightly, but there was a noticeable edge of fragility to it. “Well, I would have thought that was fairly obvious.” He leaned forward again, but Merlin stopped him with a hand to his chest.

“Arthur…” Merlin took a deep breath, unwilling to move his palm from where he could feel Arthur’s heartbeat beneath. “ _What_ are you doing?”

Arthur seemed to shake himself, Merlin only catching the faint flinch due to the their proximity. “I’m…sorry. I thought that you…that I…I didn’t realise you wouldn’t…didn’t…”

Arthur looked so uncharacteristically unsure of himself that Merlin felt wrong footed even before he began to decipher the meaning behind the Prince’s broken phrases. Arthur drew back just as the implication of his words dawned on Merlin. Merlin reached out a hand to once more grasp the soft material of Arthur’s jumper and hold him in place.

“It’s not…” Merlin tried, and tailed off with a sigh. What was the point in studying the written word if he couldn’t find the right syllables to string together in a moment like this? He thought of Arthur’s admission to Morgana, the way he’d looked at Gwaine in London, the trip to the pharmacy for a useless mound of medicine, and (even though he’d rather not dwell on the subject) Arthur’s arguments about his duty. “You can’t keep doing…” He waved his hand vaguely between the two of them.

Arthur dropped his chin to his chest and Merlin could feel the other boy’s breath ghosting over his fingertips. “I’m an idiot.”

That wasn’t quite what Merlin had been expecting. “What?”

Arthur raised his head slowly until he was staring directly at Merlin. “I’ve been a complete and utter idiot, Merlin.” He raised one hand tiredly and carded his fingers through his own hair. “I thought if I could just-“

The front passenger door opened and Leon climbed into the car. “I got your Rolos, Arthur, although I don’t…” he trailed off, two tubes of sweets resting in his palm as the other two passengers looked at him in surprise. “What’s going on?”

Merlin and Arthur chanced a glance at each other; Arthur’s hair was sticking up wildly with his fingers still tangled somewhere on top of his head, and Merlin was leaning towards Arthur, palm still pressed against the Prince’s chest. Neither boy moved particularly quickly as they tried to adopt postures of nonchalance, Merlin’s hand only dropping back to his side at the last moment.

“Thank you, Leon.” Arthur smiled tightly and retrieved the sweets from his bodyguard’s hand.

Leon’s frown deepened, and he opened his mouth as if to say something to Arthur. He seemed to think better of that and turned to raise a questioning eyebrow in Merlin’s direction instead.

Merlin remained silent, studiously ignoring everything; he was definitely  _not_ watching Arthur fidget with the paper and foil encasing the Rolos. And he was most certainly  _not_  thinking about magically stunning Leon in order for Arthur to finish his explanation.

“Would you like one?” Arthur proffered a now-open tube of chocolates towards Leon.

Leon’s gaze roamed over the pair of them one final time. “No, thank you, Arthur. I’m fine.”

“Merlin?”

Merlin looked at Arthur, who was holding the sweets out towards him. The Prince appeared to be unable to meet his friend’s eyes and Merlin hesitated just long enough for Arthur to finally look up.

“Maybe later?” Merlin looked straight at Arthur, willing him to understand.

“Later.” Arthur nodded slowly. “Definitely later.”

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin and Arthur played the age-old game of ‘I’m looking at you right up until the moment you look back’ for the second and final hour of their journey back to Albion. If scoring took place it was fair to say that both boys matched each other point for point.

“If you get out here,” Leon was explaining to Merlin as Owain parked next to the kerb a few minutes after driving into Albion’s centre, “you should be able to hurry into your flat without getting caught by too many people. Most of the journalists have gone to Caruthers’s Terrace to wait for Arthur. I’ll bring your luggage later.”

Merlin nodded and opened his door. “Arthur,” he said quietly, “should I-“

“I’ll call you later,” Arthur spoke without looking up from his lap. He’d become increasingly tense the closer they’d gotten to Albion; Leon had been receiving updates on the number of journalists and the figure seemed to be increasing at a steady rate. Morgause Gorlois was also apparently still lurking somewhere in the city.

Merlin sighed and closed the door with a resounding slam, knowing that if Elyan had been driving he would be in trouble for ‘manhandling’ the car. The sleek vehicle pulled away once more and Merlin was hit with a sense of loss; a feeling he really didn’t want to be contemplating whilst the merciless wind whipped at his hair, a cold drizzle beginning to caress his face.

Merlin stuffed his hands into his pockets and hurried around the corner to Alderley Road. He could see the flat at the other end of the street; the lights on in Gwen’s bedroom at the front of the building giving him hope that his friends would be there. He’d tried texting both Gwen and Lance from the car, but neither of them were replying.

Even though he couldn’t see anybody lurking outside the front door he reached into his pocket and clamped his hands over his keys. He knew enough about journalists already to feel like he should be on his guard.

This turned out to be a sensible tactic. As Merlin neared the front door he heard shuffling behind him, followed by a husky female voice.

“Mr Emyrs?”

Merlin stilled momentarily but then forced his legs to move faster.  _Don’t turn around,_ he told himself,  _just don’t turn around._

He didn’t turn around. The woman darted in front of him, blocking the final few steps of his journey to the flat. Merlin glared, but she was smiling at him in a way that reminded him of a shark, or a velociraptor, or perhaps even some uber-deadly combination of the two.

“Excuse me,” Merlin ground out as politely as possible. “I’d like to get inside out of the rain.”

“Of course,” replied the woman, turning her coat collar up against the wind. “But just one question before you go.”

“I’m sorry, no,” Merlin replied, just as Annis had told him to do. Polite yet firm.

“What is the nature of your relationship with the Prince of Wales?”

Merlin did not still, he did not flinch, he didn’t even breathe, and somehow he made it into the flat, only the barest tremble to his fingers as he turned the key in the lock.

He resisted the urge to slam the door, instead closing it carefully before collapsing back against with an increasing sense of panic.

_Oh God, had someone seen something earlier, or was this simply a continuation of the original allegations?_

_Should he have answered? Said ‘ **we’re friends** ’?_

“Merlin!”

Gwen’s exclamation startled him, and he barely had time to right himself before her arms were around him, pulling him into a crushing embrace.

“Oh my God, Merlin,” Gwen rubbed at her face as she stepped back. “Are you okay? They’ve been waiting outside all day. I thought you were going to be ambushed when you arrived.”

“You weren’t replying to my texts,” Merlin said as she released him completely and he went to flop on the sofa.

“We can’t turn our phones on anymore,” Gwen sighed tiredly. “It’s just constant phone calls and texts from journalists and TV people.”

“God, Gwen, I’m sorry,” Merlin drooped his arm over his face. “This is all my fault.”

“Don’t be stupid,” she replied, nudging him until he moved over to allow her to sit down. “I shouldn’t have said that about Arthur. I was just so cross with him for the way he behaved towards you. Are you okay though? Your picture is everywhere.  _Again_. And this Arthur and Gwaine thing?”

Merlin grunted noncommittally. His stomach churned unpleasantly as he opened his eyes and met Gwen’s concerned eyes; sweet, lovely, loyal Gwen looked exhausted and it was all his fault. She’d been right though, hadn’t she? Arthur really had been acting like a royal arse at the time. And now?

_Do **not**_ _think about now. Do not think about the fact you’ve been kissed (again) by Arthur. Do not think about the fact that Arthur wants to have a ‘conversation’. **Just do not think about Arthur**._

“What?” Gwen frowned.

“Hmm?”

“Your face,” Gwen’s eyes narrowed. “You just did that thing where you frown and somehow manage to look terrified and strangely hopeful at the same time.”

“What?” Merlin  _did_  frown at that.

“It’s the same face you made when Lance told you that you were ready to ski down that red last year,” Gwen replied. “And the same face you made when you saw Arthur at Morgana’s party.”

Merlin’s eyes widened.

Gwen nodded triumphantly. “You have a horribly expressive face sometimes, Merlin, and you know it.”

“Where’s Lance?” Merlin asked.  _What a smooth transitional question to take them away from this awkward situation…_

“Sleeping,” Gwen replied. “And don’t try and change the subject.”

“I wasn’t,” Merlin rolled into a more upright position and rubbed his forehead. “I’ve just got a bit of a headache; I had a temperature last night and I don’t think I’m quite over whatever it was that caused it.”

Merlin thanked the universe for the strength of Gwen’s maternal instinct; she immediately went from interrogator to protector.

“A temperature?” Gwen’s eyes grew wide. “Right, go and get straight into bed. I’ll bring you pills and water. Go!”

Merlin didn’t utter his usual  _I’m fine_  even if it was on the tip of his tongue; this was giving him the perfect excuse to get away from Gwen and just think for a while. Or not think. He wasn’t sure which would be better at this stage.

He dropped onto his bed just as his phone beeped in his pocket. His heartrate immediately increased. Arthur? He pulled the handset out and looked at the screen.

Okay,  _not_  Arthur then.

**From: Morgana  
17th January 2011 17:34**

Why has Leon just  
told me he thinks there’s  
something going on between  
you and A?

Merlin’s mouth dropped open as he bolted upright. “Fuck!” His phone buzzed again.

**From: Morgana  
17th January 2011 17:34**

Awful Helen still here, but  
we ARE going to have a  
chat later. Otherwise I’ll  
call A and ask HIM. x

“ _Oh God,”_ Merlin whispered to the empty room as he remembered his meeting with the King in Paris. “Oh my  _God_.”

What was it Uther had said to him? _I’m sure I can rely on you to alert Leon if you notice anything amiss about Arthur’s behaviour, or if he behaves in any way that will bring questions to my door._ And if Leon suspected something would he tell Uther? Even when there wasn’t really anything going on (or was there? Christ, Merlin didn’t have a clue).

Merlin hurriedly tapped the phone’s screen to get to his contact list. He selected ‘Arthur’ and pressed  _call_. The phone rang….and rang…and rang.

 _Fuck_. Merlin slammed the phone down on the bed.

“Okay.” Gwen’s voice startled Merlin out of his state of terror. She was leaning against the doorframe holding a tumbler and a packet of paracetamol. “You’ve got ten seconds to tell me what the hell is going on or else.”

He wish he had the nerve right then to petulantly yell ‘Or else  _what?_ ’ but instead he covered his face with his hands and groaned. “Gwen, I think I’ve broken the monarchy.”

 

**ooOOoo**

_Aggrieved_. That was the only way Merlin could explain the look on Gwen’s face when he finished explaining everything that had happened. He told her about magic (not  _his_  magic) having decided that if Uther was going to murder (have him murdered?) Merlin anyway for fancying the pants of the Prince of Wales, then he had no qualms about adding to his list of transgressions – he didn’t mention Ygraine though, somehow feeling that would be too much of a betrayal of Arthur. He told her about Gwaine and the date that never happened, about Arthur trying to look after him when he was ill. About that overheard conversation in the car (that he was still running through his head on an almost hourly basis), and finally what had happened only hours earlier.

“Merlin…” Gwen breathed eventually, her fingers knotting with each other over and over again.

Merlin felt drained again, and really would have quite liked to just crawl into bed and sleep. He sighed tiredly into the mug of tea Gwen had provided him with at the beginning of the story; it was now stone cold and still as full as it had been then.

“Merlin, do you think he’s in love with you?”

Merlin’s stomach knotted so tightly he felt the pain run all the way up through his chest. “No,” he whispered eventually. “How could he be? We barely know each other when you think about it. I don’t know what he wants, Gwen.”

“What do  _you_  want?” Gwen shuffled slightly closer to him so their shoulders bumped. “You’ve said a lot about Arthur, but not much about you.”

“I don’t know,” Merlin closed his eyes. “I’m so tired of not knowing what he’s thinking, what any of them are thinking. It’s like he’s part of some special club: him and Morgana, and Gwaine and Elena and I just don’t understand how to be a part of it. Nothing can happen between us, Gwen. Not really.”

“Why not?” Gwen frowned. She held up her hand at Merlin’s incredulous look and continued, “I know what you’re going to say, and you’re right; there’s not exactly precedent for this kind of thing. But, Merlin, Arthur’s going to be the King one day, and from what you’ve said about him, and what little  _I_ know about him, he’s going to be a very different King to his father. Perhaps Arthur is the one who’s going to change the rules; a new King for a new kind of world.”

Merlin looked at his friend for a long time. “I don’t think it’s as easy as that.”

“Merlin,” Gwen said seriously, worrying her lip a little as she spoke, “ _nothing_  worth having is ever easy. If you feel something for Arthur that goes beyond strong friendship then you owe it to yourself to do something about it.”

Merlin didn’t reply. He just dropped his head onto Gwen’s shoulder and sighed.

For a long time they were quiet together, neither one willing to move for fear of upsetting the fragile sense of peace that had settled over the room.

The sound of the persistently creaking floorboard in Gwen’s room is what eventually broke through their bubble.

“Lance must be up,” Gwen said, slowly getting to her feet. “I won’t say anything to him.”

“No, it’s okay,” Merlin nodded seriously. “You can tell him.”

“We were going to order a pizza,” Gwen smiled slightly. “I don’t dare try and go to Sainsbury’s. I don’t want a fight to the death with an Arthur fan in the frozen-food aisle.”

Merlin smiled despite the persistent churning in his stomach and the tingling of magic that seemed just out of his reach.

“Do you want me to order some for you too?”

“Why not,” Merlin replied. “I never get fed properly when I’m with Arthur and Morgana. You think there’d be more food considering they have private chefs. It’s no wonder really that they’re both so fond of sweets.”

Gwen grinned and left him to his thoughts.

Merlin’s smile faded as she disappeared. He couldn’t even think about sweets without his face flushing slightly. He was going to avoid confectionary for a  _long_  time, because he was genuinely worried the sight of a Rolo might actually bring on a seizure.

 

**ooOOoo**

“Surely  _this_  time it’s actually the pizza,” Lance complained from where he was sitting on the sofa.

They’d been waiting nearly half an hour for their food to turn up when there’s been a knock at the door; Lance had come face to face with a journalist when he’d opened the door, rather than the expected pizza. This had now happened twice and the trio’s patience was wearing a little thin.

“I’ll check.” Merlin peered cautiously around the curtain and looked out to the door, squinting in the darkness. His heart plummeted. “No, it’s Leon. He’s got my bag.”

Gwen shot Merlin a worried look as he steeped back from the window as another knock at the door came. “Shall I-“

“No,” Merlin shook his head. “I’ll get it. It’s only Leon.”

“Have I missed something?” Lance asked, scratching his head slightly.

“Later,” Gwen spoke in hushed tones. “Later.”

Merlin opened the door and forced himself not to immediately start shouting about Leon’s traitorous ways.

“Merlin, can I come in?” Leon asked. “ _Ah_ …I take it you’ve heard from Morgana.”

 _Okay,_ perhaps Merlin hadn’t  _quite_ managed to keep the scowl from his face. Still, he stepped to the side and allowed Leon into the flat.

“You remember Lance and Gwen,” Merlin said as his friends stood and formed a protective barrier around him.

“Of course,” Leon smiled warily. “Merlin, can I talk to you for one second?”

“There’s nothing going on Leon,” Merlin replied before he could stop himself. “So you don’t need to tell Uther anything about me and Arthur, because there isn’t one. A me and Arthur….I mean.”

“ _Merlin!_ ” Gwen hissed.

“I really  _have_  missed something.” That was Lance.

“Why would I tell the King anything like that about Arthur?” Leon was frowning for the millionth time that day.

“Because he told me that you would tell him if anything happened in Arthur’s life,” Merlin waved his arms to highlight his point.

“Merlin, it’s my job to inform the King of any potential threats to Arthur’s safety.” Leon had moved on from frowning to staring at Merlin as though he thought the younger man was speaking gibberish. “Not to tell him everything that happens in Arthur’s life.”

“But Morgana said you told her that…” Merlin trailed off.

“Seriously,  _what_ have I missed?” Lance looked completely baffled.

Leon was shaking his head.

Loud knocking followed by a rattling sound came from the kitchen as Merlin opened his mouth to speak. He paused and Leon took the opportunity to start speaking again. Lance continued to bemoan his lack of knowledge. It would have been hilarious if it wasn’t for the fact the ominous noise came again (that and the fact at least two people in the room looked  _this close_  to a nervous breakdown).

“What the hell is that?” Gwen twisted towards the source of the noise. “Boys,  _shut up_.”

The rattling continued, getting slightly more frantic.

“If that’s a bloody journalist…” Lance trailed off menacingly.

“Oh for f-“ Leon trailed off and stalked into the kitchen.

Merlin glanced between his two friends quickly, both wearing identical expressions of confusion before following Leon into the kitchen.

“Back door key, Merlin?” Leon asked.

Merlin hesitated for only a split second before lifting up the box of teabags and extracting a key from underneath.

Merlin, Gwen and Lance watched in confusion as Leon unlocked the back door and opened it. Lance reached over to grab a frying pan from the hob.

“Leon has a  _gun_ ,” Merlin hissed at Lance.

“I’m improvising,” Lance shrugged. “If any of those journalists come near Gwen they’ll have to go through me first.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. Gwen looked quite pleased.

Leon frowned again when he was greeted by just the dark garden and warren of alleys beyond as the house backed onto another row of terraces. His hand hovered near his hip as he took a step outside. “Show yourself. I _am_ armed.”

Merlin nearly collapsed when he heard a hissed reply.

“Oh fuck off, Leon.”  _Arthur._

Gwen turned to look at Merlin, her eyes bulging. “Merlin, it’s Arthur. Arthur’s in the garden.”

“Yes, thank you, Gwen,” Merlin snapped sarcastically, his magic simmering slightly just from the sound of Arthur’s voice. “I hadn’t quite realised that.”

“Seriously  _what_  have I missed?” Lance, Merlin was almost gratified to see, had still not let go of the frying pan.

Leon walked back in through the door, a dark look on his face as a soggy Prince of Wales followed him in out of the drizzle.

Arthur was wearing jeans; not the smart, expensive ones Merlin had seen him in on a regular basis, but ones that had clearly seen better days. He had a dark grey UA hoodie on that Merlin was surprised Arthur even owned _,_ but most interestingly he had Merlin’s grey knitted hat pulled down over his fringe for the second time in as many days.

“That’s my hat!” Merlin protested loudly and Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Arthur,” Leon growled. “How the  _fuck_  did you even get out of the house? Owain locked the doors behind me. The place was crawling with the media.”

“Is he allowed to speak to him like that?” Gwen whispered to Lance.

“It doesn’t matter, Leon,” Arthur replied, pulling off the hat and tousling his hair in the process. “It’s not like I leave without you very often.”

Leon looked apoplectic and Merlin knew he had to do something just to avoid the potential murder that was about to take place in a student kitchen.

“Arthur, why have you been hiding in my dark garden like a stalker?” Well, he hadn’t planned on being that direct about it, but it seemed to work as everyone’s attention was now on Merlin.

Arthur finally had the good grace to look sheepish. “I thought we could…talk.”

“That’s what phones are for,” Merlin could feel his cheeks heating slightly.

“I know,” Arthur pursed his lips. “I did call you about twenty times.”

“Oh,” Merlin looked at the floor. “Sorry, I left my phone in my room. I didn’t think you were actually going to call.”

Lance opened his mouth (presumably to ask what he’d missed…again) but Gwen elbowed him in the ribs just as there was a knock at the front door.

“Pizza?” Lance choked out, rubbing his side gingerly.

“What if it’s not?” Gwen looked worried. “It could be that horrible woman again.”

“Arthur, we need to leave,” Leon said sternly.

“I need to talk to Merlin about something, “ Arthur replied, and Merlin just knew that the Prince was considering getting quite petulant if anyone dared defy him.

Another knock at the door.

“I’m going to answer that,” Lance said. “Arthur, you need to move so you can’t be seen.”

“ _Arthur_ ,” Leon growled. “You shouldn’t be here. Not right now.”

“Leon, I need t-“

Merlin grabbed Arthur’s wrist and pulled him towards his bedroom. “Sorry, Leon,” he called back quickly as he pushed the surprised Prince into the room. “I’ll give him back in a minute.”

Leon’s protests died in his throat as Lance opened the door to the pizza delivery and Merlin closed his own door to face Arthur.

“Okay,” Merlin said, glowering slightly at Arthur until the Prince lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. “Enough skirting the subject.”

Arthur looked taken aback by Merlin’s uncharacteristic forwardness, but didn’t say anything, choosing to nod mutely instead. Merlin was, however, very aware of the slight scowl beginning to creep into the corners of Arthur’s lips.

“You said we need to have a conversation,” Merlin hoped his voice was steady as he leaned back against the door. “So let’s have a conversation.”

* * *

“Please answer, please answer,” Merlin repeated his mantra desperately clutching the phone more tightly to his ear.

He prayed.

He wished.

He tried to somehow get his magic to do something useful.

The ringing continued until he silenced it with a final swipe of his finger.

Running a hand through his hair he looked back up at the hotel he’d just left. If he stayed outside there would be no conclusion to the interview, Morgause would draw her own conclusions (not that she hadn’t done that already…) and there’d be yet more backlash. Did Merlin want to go through that again?

Did he want  _Arthur_  to go through that again?

 _No_ , was the answer. But he still hesitated before squaring his shoulders and stalking back into the building.


	24. Chapter 24

Merlin wasn’t surprised when he bumped into Gwen hurrying down the stairs. They paused on the landing of the second floor and Merlin tried to force a smile onto his face.

“Sweetheart,” Gwen looked heartbroken again as she wrapped her arms around him. “What did she do to you? Percy’s frantic looking for you. He seems to think he’ll have the wrath of the Pendragons on his head if you’re upset. Lance has taken the lift.”

“ _God,_ Gwen.” Merlin didn’t try to pull away. He needed this, needed his friends. “She asked me if Arthur was my closest friend and I couldn’t say… _anything_.”

“It’s okay,” Gwen soothed. “It will all be okay.”

“It won’t, Gwen,” Merlin hurriedly stepped back. “I’m still convinced she knows something, but I don’t know what. I just had to get outside, I needed to make a p hone call.”

“Merlin, please tell me you didn’t try to call Arthur,” Gwen shook her head sadly. “You know he w-“

“It was Morgana,” Merlin replied with a sigh. “She was always so good with all of this, I thought she might be able to help.”

“ _Morgana_?” Gwen looked surprised. “You said you hadn’t spoken to her since l-“

Merlin cut her off again. “I know what I said, and it’s mostly true. I haven’t had a conversation with Morgana since May, but she’s left me some voicemails over the last couple of months.”

“About Arthur?”

“No,” Merlin shook his head. “She’s trying to give me a job. Wants me to be part of a new charitable foundation she’s establishing.”

Gwen frowned.

“Look, can we talk ab out that later? She didn’t answer he phone anyway.” Merlin ran a hand through his hair, knowing not even a hairbrush could save it now. “I’ve got to go back in there and finish the interview, but I don’t know if I can.”

Gwen looked like she wanted to ask more questions about Morgana but stopped herself. “Merlin, you  _can_  do this. If you want to.”

“There are too many secrets, Gwen.”

“Well I agree with that,” Gwen shrugged, the tiniest hint of hurt from Merlin’s ‘betrayal’ making its presence known. Merlin tried not to flinch; he knew she’d forgiven him. “But you kept them for so long, what’s different now?”

Merlin knew the answer to that, but he didn’t want to voice it.

_He didn’t have Arthur to help._

“Come on,” Gwen clasped his hand . “Go and get this over with. I’ll try and get hold of Morgana if you think it’ll help. You just worry about how you’re going to answer that question.”

* * *

Arthur clasped his hands, pursing his lips as he settled more comfortably on the edge of the mattress. Merlin wanted to tell him that he looked awfully like a disgruntled newsreader, but opted for staying silent. This conversation had been a long time coming, and Merlin was beyond tired of delaying the inevitable. Arthur was practically Hamlet he procrastinated so much…and Merlin knew how  _that_  ended. True, Hamlet didn’t go around throwing himself at unsuspecting undergraduates before-

“What?” Arthur was frowning at him.

“What?” Merlin was startled out of his thoughts.

“You’re pulling a weird face,” Arthur gestured towards the other boy.

“No, I wasn’t,” Merlin waved a hand and tried to adopt a more casual stance whilst still leaning against the door. It appeared he’d lost the ability to w ork out where to put his hands, so continued to wave them uselessly for a few seconds.  _Bloody hell, **now**_ was not the time to turn into an awkward teenager who couldn’t work out where to put his gangly limbs.

Arthur looked at Merlin in a way that suggested he was concerned for his friend’s wellbeing, but mostly just wary of him. “And now you’re fidgeting.”

Merlin stilled immediately. “No, I’m not.”

The Prince exhaled a long-suffering sigh. “Merlin, just sit down. Please?”

Merlin acquiesced by sliding into his desk chair, silently thrilled that he no longer had to worry about the strength of his protesting body. He subtly eyed the paracetamol that had been forgotten about in the midst of his explanations to Gwen, but he wouldn’t make a move for them until Arthur explained himself.

“Merli n…” Arthur stopped and crossed one knee over the other. “Merlin, I know that-“ He uncrossed his legs. “The thing is, my duty is-“ Arthur stood up, hands going to his hair once more.

“You really need to work on your speeches before they make you king,” Merlin grinned slightly, he couldn’t help it, his smile only widening when Arthur shot him a withering look.

“Remember when I told you I thought you were annoying?” Arthur fixed him with a glower. “I was wrong. You’re the most bloody-minded, infuriating, exasperating person I have ever met.”

“Synonyms,” Merlin bit his lip to stifle a small laugh. “Actually you might be alright.”

“Merlin!” Arthur looked dismayed. “I am  _trying_  to have a serious conversation with you. Why are you- _oh!_ ”

Merlin’s eyes narrowed as Arthur’s wide ned. “’Oh’, what?”

“You’re trying to deflect, aren’t you?” Arthur pointed at him. “You tell me we need to have a conversation and now when said conversation is taking place you’re trying to be all funny and distracting. You, Merlin Emrys, are terrible at relationship conversations,  _aren’t you_?”

Merlin opened his mouth, and then clamped it shut almost immediately. Arthur, clearly realising what he’d said, followed suit, looking like a startled platypus when he pouted slightly.

“Relationship conversation?” Merlin’s eyes widened as he repeated Arthur’s words. “ _Relationship_?”

“I meant…” Arthur covered his face with his hands and growled in frustration. “Merlin, I just want to discuss the facts, and work out how we’re going to move forward from this.”

Merlin huffed a fra gile laugh. “And you think  _I’m_ bad at talking about this?”

“I’m trying to be straightforward.”

“This isn’t a bloody diplomatic conference, Arthur!” Merlin rolled his eyes. “I’m not sodding… _Denmark_  or something!”

Arthur was so surprised at Merlin’s words he had to clamp a hand over his mouth when he started laughing. Merlin grinned too, but forced himself to look away.

“I don’t really know what to say,” Arthur admitted quietly as he scratched the back of his neck with a shrug. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Try.” Merlin nodded encouragingly at him. Arthur kept changing the rules, so Arthur was going to be the first to explain; so decreed Merlin Emrys (internally obviously).

Arthur sagged back down onto the bed. He looked exhausted, which wasn't too surprising when Merlin thought about it. The Prince looked unsure once more, but Merlin was gratified to see that he was holding his gaze.

“My father wants me to marry Elena and forge links with the stalwarts of the Old Empire,” Arthur finally spoke plainly, no hint of embarrassment or hesitation colouring his tone for the first time since he arrived. “You already know that my feelings for Elena do not run past the boundaries of a long-standing friendship, but it does not change the expectations of my father, Elena’s family, or indeed most of the European monarchy.

My father was unhappy with my relationship with… _Sophia_ ,” Arthur shuddered slightly but Merlin didn’t interrupt, “but he allowed it to continue because of his connections with Aulfric. He made it very plain to me at the time, however, that the dalliance would not continue for long; obviously neither of us was privy to the kno wledge that  _magic_  was playing a part, and I had no choice about my actions. When I apparently expressed my wish to marry Sophia my father was, as you know,  _not_  pleased.”

Merlin took a deep breath. Arthur was bandying about the term ‘marriage’ far too often for his fragile nerves right now. He did not want his brain to head down that little road…

“Obviously,” Arthur continued, unaware of Merlin’s troubled thoughts, “that union did not come to fruition. Nevertheless, I believe that even if Sophia’s intentions had been innocent and honourable my father would still have forbidden the relationship as it would not have secured the economic and diplomatic relationships he prizes so highly.”

Arthur paused and hung his head slightly. Merlin sat on his palms to stop himself from reaching out.

“Merlin,” Arthur looked back up, his blue eyes locking with Merlin’s, “I know this all sounds ridiculous to you, and really it  _is_  ridiculous, but I hope you can see why I’ve been such a… _prat_. You get to make your own decisions and decide what you want to do tomorrow without needing to clear it with eighteen different people first.”

 _Not since I met you._ Merlin didn’t voice that thought, even though it irked him slightly that Arthur thought Merlin lived this wonderful life of freedom and independence.

“I can’t make  _any_ decisions without thinking about how they will alter the course of not only my own future, but the future of this country,” Arthur sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. “I’ve always known that.

When I was five my father took me to a charity gala for a children’s hospital in London, Morgana came too. There was a wooden play fort outside and I begged until I was allowed to play on it for five minutes.”

Merlin tried not to smile at the thought; of course Arthur would have wanted a fort, aged five. It wasn’t just because he was a little boy, it was because he was a little  _prince_.

“There was this horrible little boy called Gunnar,” Arthur continued, clearly lost in his childhood. “I think he was the son of one of the Norwegian consular assistants. He pushed me and I fell off the ladder half way up. I didn’t break anything, but I got enough of a fright that I wanted my father. I screamed blue murder, apparently, but my father didn’t come. My bodyguard picked me and made sure I was okay, but I was told I couldn’t see my father; it was explained to me very clearly that he was in the middle of a very important conversation with a very important man from a very important country. My father always liked to associate with the  _very important.”_ He scoffed slightly.

And Merlin could see it clear as day; the underlying hint of antagonism Arthur felt towards his father pushing itself to the surface. It was nothing like the cold words Morgana had uttered about Uther in Merlin’s presence, but it made him shiver nonetheless.

“If I had interrupted my father that day,” Arthur nodded, “I would have ruined two months of discussions on the fortification of trade routes between the United Kingdom and Asia. I learned that he would always be a King first and a Father second; and so the cycle continues. I am duty-bound to be first and foremost the Prince of Wales, future King of the United Kingdom and Commonwealth realms, and can only ever be  _Arthur_  when it does not impede those duties.”

Merlin had known that this was what Arthur was going to say, but it didn’t stop his heart from sinking anyway; twisting with a cruel tug as a little voice whispered  _I told you so_. But Merlin was looking at a future King here; a man who had always held back for fear of disappointing his father and his people, and Merlin found he couldn’t begrudge him his unwavering loyalty to what he believed was right, even if it was cutting Merlin to the bone.

“Do you understand, Merlin?” Arthur asked quietly, his eyes once more focused on the boy in front of him.

Merlin nodded mutely. He wanted to offer some words of support, of encouragement, he really, truly did. But he also wanted to throw something; his magic tingled in agreement.

“So...”Arthur tousled his hair again. “You can see that there’s a problem?”

“Problem?”

“Yes,” Arthur leaned forward slightly clasping his hands together once more as he looked to his feet, “a  _problem_.”

Merlin eyed the Prince cautiously and found himself shuffling backwards slightly on his chair.

“Because the thing is…” Arthur’s eyes met Merlin’s again. “The decisions I’ve made to make my father happy have never brought  _me_  happiness. Every relationship I’ve ever had, other than Sophia and  _that_  doesn’t count, has been brought about by my father’s engineering.

Merlin, I know I’ve not acted fairly towards you, and that I really have no right to ask you for anything, but I  _am_ asking you.”

Merlin’s mouth had gone dry and his first instinct was to launch himself past Arthur and grab the stone-cold mug of tea sitting on his bedside table. He fought the inclination and remained still. “Asking me?”

“I’m asking you to give me a chance,” Arthur’s gaze dropped once more. “You don’t treat me like an entitled Prince and you certainly don’t moderate your tone or your actions around me and…I  _like_  that. I like  _you_.”

If Merlin had any air left in his lungs at the end of that it would have escaped in sheer surprise anyway.

“I can't even explain it,” Arthur tugged his hair, somehow managing to look happy and frustrated at the same time, “but I can’t stop thinking about you.”

 _Brain!_ A voice from deep within Merlin screamed.  _Give me something! Anything!_ His brain, clearly becoming more adept at dealing with shock when Arthur was around allowed him four words:

 _I_  
Am  
So  
Fucked

Arthur didn’t wait for a response. Good job, because he wasn’t going to get one any time soon as Merlin’s mouth had seized shut. “Jesus,” Arthur laughed self-deprecatingly, “I’m turning into a girl.”

But he didn’t seem like a girl to Merlin, far from it. He was more like, “Colin Firth!”

Arthur’s face cycled straight past understanding and into utter confusion before Merlin even processed the words that had left his mouth. “Colin Firth?”

“Nothing,” Merlin shook his head, he was really going to have to filter more carefully when it came to Arthur. He grasped for something sensible to say. “Arthur…you’re the Prince of Wales.”

“I know that, Merlin.”

“I’m a…commoner.”

“Yes, fully aware of that too .”

“Arthur…” Merlin trailed off. “Arthur, I’m a  _boy_.”

Arthur tipped his head back and laughed so loudly he actually made Merlin jump in fright. “Christ, Merlin, yes, I am also fully aware that you are, in fact, a boy.”

“Your duty-“

“Is for me to worry about,” Arthur reached out and pulled Merlin to his feet. “This would never be easy, Merlin, and I need you to know that before you make any kind of decision.”

“Decision?”

“And you say  _I_ need to work on my speeches?” Arthur scoffed slightly before sobering. “Give me a chance, Merlin. Let me be  _Arthur_  just for you.”

Merlin tried not to die. Tried to regain some semblance of composure and dignity, rather than just gawp at the handsome man holding him upright. His mind was whirring through the possibilities - a relationship with Arthur? Declining Arthur so he could carry on to remain faithful to his duties, his father’s wishes? What would this do to Arthur’s future?

“Shut up,” Arthur whispered, grinning slightly.

“I didn’t say anything,” Merlin frowned.

“I can hear you thinking,” Arthur rolled his eyes.

“We wouldn’t be able to tell anyone?”

Arthur shook his head sadly. “Not really. Not now, anyway. Can’t have my father petitioning for my head on a platter just yet.”

Merlin frowned. “Arthur, I don’t think I can ask you to do this.”

“You’re not,” Arthur squeezed Merlin’s hands. “ _I’m_ asking  _you_.”

Merlin looked at the boy in front of him and r ealised that he never really saw the Prince, he only ever saw Arthur.  _And God wasn’t it wonderful?_ Still…”You’re not just going to change your mind in five minutes?”

“God, no!” Arthur had never looked more serious than in that moment. “Merlin, in the past month I’ve been arrested, I’ve been shot at, I’ve nearly drowned. I found out magic was real, I found out about-“ he took a slightly shaky breath, “my  _mother_. And on top of that I’ve been a complete, what did Gwen call me?”

“Royal arse,” Merlin whispered.

“Yeah,” Arthur sighed. “ _That_. I’ve been a complete arse when it’s come to you and  _you’re still here_. I  _am_  sorry, and you’re the only person in the world I’ve apologised to repeatedly  _and_  meant it every single time. There’s just something about you Merlin.”

“You really like saying that don’t you?” Merlin smiled softly. “That’s, what, the third time?”

“You’ve been keeping track of what I say?” Arthur smirked slightly.

“It’d be impossible to keep up with you otherwise,” Merlin’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Arthur bowed his head and looked suitably sheepish.

Merlin surveyed him for a long moment. If he wanted to get out of whatever this was, now was the perfect opportunity. If he said  _yes_  to Arthur he’d never have normal life back again. Not to mention he’d have to work out how to tell Arthur about his magic.

Arthur sighed and Merlin felt him start to loosen his hold.

“Yes,” Merlin said hurriedly.

“Yes?” Arthur was clearly trying hard not to look too hopeful.

“Yes,” Merlin laughed, a desperate gasp of breath followed by honest delight. “Yes, Arthur.”

Arthur’s face split into a wide smile as he tried to cover the small sound of relief that escaped from his lips. He raised his right hand and brought it up to Merlin’s cheek; Merlin leant into the touch, a tiny sigh of relief passing his lips as his eyelashes fluttered closed.

“Merlin?”

“Hmm?”

“You feel very warm,” Arthur replied and Merlin opened his eyes. “Are you still feeling u-“

Merlin leaned down slightly pressing his lips firmly against Arthur’s. Arthur fought against him for a couple of seconds, before giving up and yielding with a sigh. Merlin grinned into the kiss and had to pull away when Arthur did the same; only so far that they could rest their foreheads against the other.

“So I can do that whenever I want now?” Merlin smiled wider.

“What, kiss me?”

“Use kissing as an excuse to shut you up,” Merlin amended.

“I think I would probably be okay with that. It  _is_  quite effective.” Arthur nodded seriously, trying not to smile. “Although it might be problematic if I’m in the middle of giving a speech at a charity event, or perhaps if I’m-“

“Arthur?”

“Hmm?”

“Shut up!” Merlin laughed and wound his arms around Arthur to draw him closer. He reached up to run a hand lightly through Arthur’s hair. “God, I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”

“Since France?” Arthur smirked.

“Since  _Tatler_ printed a picture of you at the beginning of first year,” Merlin r eplied unthinkingly, too distracted by the strands of hair between his fingers. “Gwen had it up on her wall in halls and I used to look at it when I was supposed to be revising.” Merlin’s eyes widened suddenly as he watched amusement dawn on Arthur’s face. “Not that you will repeat that to  _anyone_. Ever. And definitely not to Gwen. When she found out I liked boys she immediately assumed I would have a thing for you and wanted me to join her in lusting after you from afar. I denied all interest and she stopped plotting ways to meet you properly when Lance came along.”

“Well that was stupid of you,” Arthur’s smirk was joined by a waggle of his eyebrows. “You should have teamed up with her to ensnare me – you could have concocted something less drastic than thwarting an assassination attempt, I’m sure.”

“No,” Merlin laughed again, his hand drifting to the back of Arthur’s neck. “ It was all part of my master plan. Gwen ends up with Lance and then I get you all to myself when you owe me for saving your life.”

Arthur smiled. “Well aren’t  _you_  the intelligent one”

“That’s right!”

“Your Royal Highness?”  _Leon._ Knocking came from the other side of the door.

Arthur blanched slightly. “He’s pissed off. If he wasn’t he’d call me Arthur.”

“He won’t say anything to...your father?” Merlin’s stomach twisted again at the thought.

Arthur shook his head seriously. “No, he wouldn’t do that.”

Merlin dropped his hands from Arthur and took a step back. “We should probably open the door.”

Arthur sighed and pulled the door open.

Leon, Gwen and L ance were all standing there, slices of pizza paused half way to their mouths. He was sure Gwen looked mildly disappointed – probably because Arthur was still wearing his hoodie.

“Yes?” Merlin asked innocently.

Leon cleared his throat, evidently trying to pretend he hadn’t just been scoffing pizza and hanging around being nosey with Merlin’s friends. “Arthur, we really need to go back to the house. Morgause has been spotted in the area and I know you don’t want to run into her right now.”

Arthur gave a resigned sigh. “Fine. Out the back door again?”

Leon nodded. “I’ll have to leave the way I came in. Just in case.”

“Okay,” Arthur nodded. “I’ll meet you outside.”

Nobody moved.

Merlin shot Gwen a  _please go away right this second or I’ll never speak to you again_  look.

Still nobody moved.

Arthur rolled his eyes and turned slightly to retrieve Merlin’s hat off the floor of the bedroom. “Mind if I borrow this?”

Merlin shook his head, a slight smile on his face as Arthur tried to hide a grin of his own. “You can give it back to me tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow morning,” Arthur agreed. “I still owe you a scone from  _Delia’s_ , don’t I?”

Merlin tried to ignore the fact they were being watched by three people with the intensity of a crowd at a Wimbledon final. “I’ve got a meeting with my tutor at nine-thirty.”

“Okay,” Arthur shrugged, making a final adjustment to the hat. “I’ll meet you here at eight then.”

“ _Eight?_ ” Merlin asked in surprise.

“Yeah,” Arthur smiled softly. “Eight gives us plenty of time.”

Merlin could see the effort it was taking Gwen not to blurt out questions, probably many,  _many_  questions. Lance looked less baffled than he had earlier; clearly he’d been given some information.

Arthur’s gaze drifted down to Merlin’s lips and Merlin felt his cheeks redden. He watched as Arthur’s eyes shifted so that he was looking at the other three occupants of the hallway. He shrugged at Merlin, the question obvious in the arch of his eyebrow.

Merlin had a list of reasons why it would be a bad idea; so many reasons he could publish a book on the subject of why kissing Arthur Pendragon in front of your friends (and Leon) would be a bad idea (particularly when they were supposed to be practising subterfuge). But he was going to take a leaf out of Arthur’s own book for this one. Just once.

“Oh, fuck it,” he whispered with a covert grin at Arthur before stepping forwards and stealing a soft kiss.

Gwen dropped her pizza.

Lance bent down to pick it up immediately.

Leon coughed and made to help Lance.

Arthur smiled like he didn’t have a care in the world.

And Merlin? Merlin just closed his eyes and allowed the tingling sensation in his spine to come to rest. It seemed his magic had finally calmed.

* * *

“Merlin?” Gwen asked, biting her lip as they reached the correct floor, she looked like she was fighting with herself over something. “I know I said you can do this…but I don’t think you should.”

“I have to,” Merlin gulped. “You know that. You and Lance are the ones who told me it would be better this way.”

Gwen put her hand on his arm and leaned in close. “Merlin, he loved you.”

Merlin jerked away as if he had been burned; he hadn’t expected her to say that. She grasped his wrist again and made it clear she wanted him to listen.

“Merlin,” Gwen was whispering now, “you need to remember that he loved you, and that he wouldn’t want you to feel like this. Even now, after everything, I know Arthur, and I know he wouldn’t want this.”

“Gwen…” Merl in breathed.

“Maybe you should just walk away. No,  _I mean it_ , Merlin.” Gwen sighed. “I don’t know if I can just stand by and watch you do this to yourself. Do you  _really_  need to be here?”

Merlin looked at her for a long moment. Eventually he shook his head and walked up the corridor to where Morgause was certainly still waiting for him, ignoring Gwen’s disappointed sigh as he opened the door to the lion’s den once more.


	25. Chapter 25

“Merlin!” Morgause was trying to look concerned as Merlin reappeared in the ‘studio’. “Are you alright?”

He took a seat on the same sofa and took a sip of water. “Sorry about that,” he spoke as calmly as possible, “I just needed a bit of air. It gets quite warm under these lights.”

Merlin heard Percy sigh with relief at his reappearance.

“So,” Merlin leaned forward to match Morgause’s stance when the camera was set up once more. “Do you want to ask me that question again?”

* * *

 **From: Arthur**  
18th January 2011 07:55  
Be outside in one minute  
Bit early  
Hurry up!

Merlin rolled his eyes as he read the message; evidently Arthur was going to be as brusque as usual when it came to phone contact. He was strangely relieved about this consistency, considering how much had changed the night before.

Oh dear God, the night before.

_Gwen waited less than five seconds after both front door and back door closed behind Leon and Arthur before emitting a shrill scream. At the time Merlin couldn’t work out if she was thrilled or horrified; that questions was answered, however, when she threw her arms around him and started jumping up and down._

_“Merlin, Merlin, Merlin. He **loves**  you. Oh my God, he loves you!”_

_“Woah, hold on!” Merlin peeled himself away from her. “Nobody has mentioned love. Don’t be ridiculous.”_

_Gwen just smiled smugly in return, a happy sigh escaping her lips. “Bloody hell, Merlin! The Prince of Wales. I think I might be a little bit jealous.”_

_“No, no, no,” Gwen blushed prettily as she looked at her boyfriend, “you know I love you. I only meant a **little**  bit. Oh! You know what I mean-“_

_Lance took pity on her and grinned._

Merlin was yanked back to reality when his phone started ringing in his hand. It slipped from his grip and he grasped at it a few times before he curled his fingers tightly around the case and answered it with a quick swipe.

“Emrys.”

“ _Emry_ s, Arthur, really?” Merlin rolled his eyes again as he picked up his satchel, making sure his horribly rushed (but at least finally finished) essay on  _Brideshead Revisited_  was secured inside.

“Just reminding you about the Devil, Merlin,” Arthur spoke quietly into the phone. “You always need to be aware of the Devil. Too cold to text again.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Merlin breathed. Understanding caused a curl of tension in his stomach. -That Morgause woman must be outside somewhere. “I’ll be two seconds.”

Merlin hung up and dropped the phone into his bag, grabbed his duffle coat and his gloves and unlocked the front door. He really hoped Arthur had thought to return his hat as he opened the door and immediately felt the cold air assault his face.

Arthur had indeed remembered Merlin’s hat; it was perched snugly on the Prince’s head. Arthur, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket ( _It’s a peacoat, Merlin!_  Arthur’s exasperated voice reminded him in his head). Arthur, hands stuffed in the pockets of his  _peacoat,_  was looking up at the other boy through his eyelashes and Merlin knew he was being played; he wasn’t going to be able to demand the hat back now, was he? Not without causing a public scene.

“Morning! Isn’t your head cold, Merlin?” Arthur grinned as Merlin fell into step beside him.

“Hmm,” Merlin replied as he wriggled into his gloves and pulled his hood up. “I hate you.”

“ Already?” Arthur nudged him slightly with his shoulder.

“Yes, already,” Merlin kept his voice low. “Is she around?”

Arthur nodded. “Leon saw her when we left the house.”

“Where  _is_  Leon?” Merlin looked around, finally spotting the man, once more stylishly outfitted in black, across the road. He gave Merlin a nod of greeting.

“Did my sister call you?” Arthur asked as casually as possible as they rounded the corner from Alderley Road and began the trek up the hill into the city centre. Merlin could see Arthur was not as relaxed as he was pretending to be; he kept adjusting the straps on his backpack and tugging the hat further over his ears.

“She did,” Merlin replied with a small smile. “I’d never really heard Morgana  _giggle_  before; not for that length of time, anyway.”

Arthur practically skidded to a stop and whirled to face Merlin. “ _What?_ ”

Merlin frowned. “What?”

Arthur threw up his hands in a gesture that clearly screamed  _oh well, that’s just typical_. “She  _laughed_?  _She called you and laughed_? In a  _happy_  way?”

“Yes,” Merlin replied slowly as he gestured for Arthur to start walking again. “She was happy. Why?”

“She spent twenty minutes trying to get me to admit that something had happened between…you know; seriously I think Leon is actually her  _spy_. Then I had to listen to  _an hour_ of her haranguing me about what she’d do to me if I acted in any way that irritated, upset, harmed, bullied, annoyed or otherwise had a negative impact on you. I tried hanging up but she just kept calling back!” Arthur looked horrified beyond belief. “She’s supposed to be  _my_  sister!”

Merlin guffawed loudly, pleased that the dark, cold morning meant that there was hardly anybody else around at this end of the main road. He clutched at his stomach at the thought of Morgana berating Arthur on Merlin’s behalf. “ _God_ , I love Morgana.”

“Hmm,” Arthur replied and Merlin’s mirth increased. “Oh, shut up,  _Mer_ lin.”

“Careful,” Merlin chuckled. “I’ll tell Morgana you’re being mean to me.”

“You’re such a girl,” Arthur huffed, but there was no real irritation colouring his words.

Merlin laughed again, before turning serious as a couple of girls out for a run pointed at Arthur as they crossed the road. “Do you ever get used to it?”

Arthur didn’t need to ask what Me rlin was referring to; he just smiled politely at the girls and carried on walking. “No,” he shook his head eventually. “Not really. You just learn to keep everything to yourself. Choose who you’re going to be for the rest of the world and stick with that image.” He sighed. “Keep the truth to yourself.”

“Arthur…I’m glad that some people know,” Merlin mumbled as he tucked his head further into his coat as the wind began to whistle through the old university buildings on their left.

“Me too. I don’t want to lie to the people closest to us,” Arthur spoke quietly but his words were firm. “I’d rather not lie to  _anyone_ , but I-“

“No, I get it,” Merlin shrugged. “Really, Arthur, I do. I’m not questioning the decision, I just want to make sure you’re okay with it.”

“I am.” Arthur nodded resolutely as the warm gl ow of  _Delia’s_ came into view. “But, this conversation’s becoming a little too maudlin considering this is sort of…” He looked at Merlin and for a brief moment a tiny, soft smile graced his features.

Merlin ducked his head slightly with a laugh. “Our first date,” he whispered, no chance of his words carrying anywhere but to Arthur’s ears.

“Sort of,” Arthur repeated with a grin. “Although if you think I’m going to spend the whole time complimenting you and asking you about your hobbies you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Merlin chuckled as he opened the door to Delia’s and herded Arthur inside in front of him. “You’re going to spend the whole time bullying me and mocking everything I say, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am,” Arthur pulled off his (Merlin’s) hat and dropped it onto an empty table. “And you wouldn’t have it an y other way.”

 _You’re right, I really wouldn’t_ , Merlin agreed, not voicing his thoughts as  _Delia’s_  was already busy with the students who had nine o’ clock lectures and knew they needed a good dose of caffeine before they crossed the road into Old Court.

The change in the atmosphere was palpable as the two boys sat down. Even though Arthur had been at UA for over a year a  _lot_  of people still hadn’t gotten over the fact there was royalty in their midst. The volume of conversation dipped for a few moments, before people’s need to over-compensate kicked in and they all began speaking louder then before, pretending their eyes didn’t drift towards the table closest to the counter every few seconds.

Arthur ignored it all with the skill of someone who’d been doing this from birth, not even flinching when the word  _arrested_ floated over from so mewhere near the window. Merlin grinned when Leon, who may actually be the stealthiest man alive, sidled a little closer to the couple discussing Arthur’s transgression in Paris and looked at them until they stopped talking so loudly.

“Leon actually looks quite intimidating with a black eye,” Arthur muttered, looking at the enormous chalkboard above the counter where the Daily Bake (half-price with a UA card) was always written in four-inch high letters (that day it was Lemon Drizzle Cake), displayed like a Siren’s call for anyone who dared walk past the coffee shop without the intention of entering.

“ _Arthur_ ,” Merlin warned even though he knew how guilty Arthur was feeling about what he did to Leon.

“I’m kidding, Merlin,” Arthur rolled his eyes. “Scone?”

“Obviously.” Merlin shrugged out of his coat and put his gloves in the pockets.

“Jam?”

“ _And_  butter,” Merlin grinned, already thinking about the baked delight heading his way. “I’d also possibly kill you right now in exchange for a cappuccino.”

“Leon’s right over there,” Arthur arched an eyebrow. “You really shouldn’t make threats like that – he’s been trained to hear them over long distances.”

“Guess you should be worried he’s not rushing to save you then, shouldn’t you?” Merlin smirked.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Also,  _cappuccino_ Merlin? That’s such a girl drink.”

“Is it your goal to try and emasculate me at every opportunity today?” Merlin picked up a sugar packet and twirled it in his fingers. “Seriously anyone would think you actually wanted me to be a girl.”

“It’d make life easier,” Arthur shrugged with a smirk.

Now it was Merlin’s turn to roll his eyes. “Oh come off it,” he resisted the urge to stick out his tongue. “I have it on good authority that you’re quite partial to hot chocolate with cream  _and_ marshmallows  _and_ preferably some chocolate you can wield on the side. Yeah,  _I’m_  the one drinking girl-oriented drinks.”

“I drink espresso  _actually_ ,” Arthur got to his feet, taking his wallet from his back pocket.

“You’re such a liar,” Merlin laughed. “Morgana told me when were in Paris,  _and_  Gwen will have the print evidence of this fact somewhere, I’m sure; all those years of teenage infatuation and magazine clippings must be useful for something.”

Arthur’s eyes widened.

“ _And_ ,” Merlin continued, “I know you well enough at this stage to bet that you’d go and order and espresso right now and suffer through it just to prove a point.”

Arthur gaped. “You…are… _so_ annoying.”

Merlin smiled in reply. “Thanks, Arthur,” he said loudly. “That’s really kind of you.”

Arthur scowled, but ordered a hot chocolate anyway.

Merlin grinned.  _Annoyingly_.

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin’s good mood had evaporated entirely by the time he left his tutor’s study. He clutched his stupid essay in his stupid hand and didn’t care that he was crinkling the paper. Paper was  _stupid_.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Merlin looked up in surprised. Arthur was sitting casually on the wall outside the Fisher Building, a place he had no reason to be anywhere near considering he was a History student. Leon was nearby pretending to be interested in a plaque about the history of the archway.

“What are you doing here?” Merlin frowned.

If Arthur was taken aback by Merlin’s sullen mood he didn’t visibly react. “I thought you might need something to cheer you up. You were starting to look a bit like death again before you went in.”

Merlin took the paper bag th at Arthur was holding out to him, only vaguely registering that Arthur extracted the essay from Merlin’s grip at the same time. Merlin carefully unfolded the bag and looked inside; a hefty slice of  _Delia’s_  Lemon Drizzle Loaf sat proudly at the bottom, syrupy goodness already beginning to indelibly stain the paper.

Merlin looked up again and his chest fluttered slightly when he found Arthur staring at him expectantly (he wouldn’t admit that in a court of law though, thank you very much). This was Arthur making a gesture; a gesture that would look perfectly innocent to any outsider, but to Merlin it meant the world in that moment. “You bought me cake.”

“I did,” Arthur shrugged. “But if you cry about it I won’t do it again.”

“I’m not going to cry about it,” Merlin resisted the urge to stick his tongue out. He added in a softer voice, “Thank you, Arthur.”

Arthur smiled, pleased that he’d done something right. “Are you going to tell me what the thunder face was all about then?”

“He won’t accept my essay,” Merlin replied with a sigh, tilting his head towards the path to Old Court to show he wanted to leave. “He said it’s definitely not my best work and he doesn’t want to accept it because it will affect my overall mark for the module. So he wants me to write another one.”

“Can he actually do that?” Arthur frowned as they headed through Old Court. “Not accept it, I mean?”

“He thinks he’s doing me a favour,” Merlin sighed, “and I suppose he is. But I really don’t want to have to write it again.”

“Can’t you just rewrite parts of it?” Arthur reached into his pocket and pulled out another bag from  _Delia’s_. Merli n was willing to put money on there being another slice of Lemon Drizzle Loaf inside.

“No,” Merlin shook his head. “I have to choose a different title.  _Bloody hell,_ Arthur, I really don’t need this right now. This will actually count towards my degree, you know, and it’s the worst thing I’ve ever written.”

“Did you explain why you didn’t have it finished on Friday?”

“Did I tell him that I was babysitting an inebriated royal prat who thought it would be a good idea to go out drinking less than twenty-four hours after being arrested? Oh and because I’d been thwarting a magical assassination attempt on said royal only hours before  _that_?”

Arthur  _did_  look slightly taken aback at that, but tried to cover it with a quick grin. “Yeah,  _that_.”

“Fuck,” Merlin breathed as the y reached the main road. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“I know,” Arthur gave a small nod. “Come on then.”

“I need to go and start work on this if I have any hope of finishing it by Wednesday.”

“That’s what I was suggesting,” Arthur rolled his eyes. “We’ll go back to your flat and I’ll amuse myself whilst you write your essay.”

“ _You_  want to sit in  _my_  flat while I write an essay and basically become anti-social for the next forty-eight hours?” Merlin shot Arthur an incredulous look.

“Why not?” Arthur shrugged. “I can’t face a lecture about Jacobean politics right now anyway. Anyone would think you didn’t want me t-”

“No, no, it’s not that,” Merlin hurriedly assured him. “I…just…don’t n-“

“O kay, we clearly have a lot of work to do on your grasp of the English language if you’re going to manage this essay,” Arthur grinned and bumped Merlin’s shoulder with his own.

“Haven’t you got hundreds of friends clamoring for your attention though?” Merlin asked as they began the walk back to Alderley Road.

Arthur laughed, and Merlin caught the self-deprecating edge to it. “No. Not really.”

Merlin frowned. “You don’t have friends at UA?”

Arthur was quiet for a long moment before he shrugged again. “I’m looking at him.”

* * *

“Did you consider Prince Arthur to be your closest friend?” Morgause asked, challenge in her eyes.

“Yes.” Merlin replied, and in that moment he had more conviction in that fact than anything else.


	26. Chapter 26

“Did the Prince spend much time with your friends?” Morgause asked waving her hands airily. It was clear she couldn't care less.

“Yes,” Merlin replied.

“Even though Gwen Smith was the one to insult him in the press?”

“As I said earlier,” Merlin felt his anger rising again, “that comment was not made vindictively. Gwen and Arthur got along brilliantly.”

“But the Prince did not attend your birthday celebrations in Ealdor that year, even though he was a friend at that stage?”

Merlin frowned and asked the question before he could stop himself. “How do you know about my birthday?”

Morgause grinned. “We’ve done our research, Mr Emrys.”

Merlin continued to stare at her for a long moment. “Arthur…” he trailed off, trying to remembe r the story. “Arthur was required at Kensington Palace that weekend, I believe.”

* * *

“Mmph?” Merlin mumbled into the phone; it was still dark outside and he couldn’t force his eyes open properly to look at the screen. “Arthur?”

“Merlin,” came the hushed reply.

“Morgana?” Merlin asked sleepily. A split-second later his eyes snapped open and he threw himself out of his bed without another thought. “What’s happened? Is Arthur okay?”

“He’s fine,” Morgana replied quietly. “I had…”

“Another dream?” Merlin sighed and sat on the edge of his bed.

“There was a monster, Merlin,” Morgana replied, slight-hysteria lacing her words. “I don’t know what to think. Do you think it was just a nightmare? Or…?”

Merlin wanted more than anything to tell her that it was just a nightmare, but if Morgana’s dream was anything like the vivid dreams he’d been experiencing on and off for the past six weeks then he couldn’t do that with any sense of certainty. “Tell me what happened.”

“I will,” Morgana sighed. “But not over the phone; I’ve managed to convince Elyan to add you to the list of people I can call without them eavesdropping; it helps that you’re on Arthur’s list too, but you can’t be too careful… I could be in Albion by lunchtime; I’ll just tell Arthur I want to take him out for dinner or something. He won’t question me if I promise to feed him.”

Merlin grimaced. “Morgana, I’m going back to Ealdor for the weekend. My train leaves at ten-thirty. It’s…um…my birthday today, and Mum will kill me if I’m not back today so she can spoil me rotten until Sunday afternoon.”

“Oh,” Morgana said softly. “You didn’t mention it was coming up to your birthday. Is Arthur going with you?”

“No,” Merlin sighed. “He, I mean,  _we_  thought it would probably be best if he stayed here. You know, considering my Mum doesn’t know anything about… _you know_. And I didn’t mention it because I didn’t want anyone to make a fuss.”

“You think  _I’d_ make a fuss?” Morgana asked.

“No,” Merlin grinned slightly. “I  _know_  you’d make a fuss. Besides, Gwen and Lance are coming with me and I dread to think what Gwen’s planning; she’s been horribly secretive for the last week – she’s asked me twice what I would choose from  _Delia’s_ if I was buying myself a hypothetical birthday cake.”

Morgana sniggered. “I think Gwen and I need to spend a bit more time together.”

“So you can teach her your sneaky ways?” Merlin laughed.

“Exactly.” Morgana paused before speaking seriously once more. “I  _am_  worried though, Merlin. For Arthur. Whatever this creature was, it wanted my brother dead.”

“Can you stay here with him for the weekend?” Merlin asked, shivering slightly as his bare toes scraped lightly against the floor. “Maybe you should tell Leon about your dreams. It would help him to be prepared…just in case.”

“Maybe,” Morgana. “But yes, I’ll make sure I’m with him this weekend.”

“Morgana?” Merlin asked after a few moments of quiet. “Do you ever get the feeling that…" he paused. "No, never mind, I’m just being stupid.” He ran a hand across his face.

“What, Merlin?”

He thought of the dragon, he thought of his dreams. “Just that…this all seems like a second chance somehow?

Morgana was silent, only her soft breathing alerting Merlin to the fact that she was still there at all. “Yes,” she whispered eventually. “And that there’s something I need to change, something I need to do… _right_.”

Merlin contemplated her words carefully and felt his response rather than understood it. “I think you’re already doing it.”

Morgana huffed a slight laugh. “I’ll call you later. Goodnight, Merlin and Happy Birthday.”

“Night, Morgana,” Merlin rolled his eyes as his clock alerted him to the fact his alarm was going to go off in twenty minutes anyway.

 

**ooOOoo**

“Gwen!” Merlin called, running back out of the station. “Hurry up! The train’s about to leave!”

Gwen was fiddling with the handle of her wheeled suitcase. “Sorry, Merlin,” she huffed in annoyance “I think the handle’s about to break.”

“Oh give it here!” Merlin grabbed the handle and pulled, slightly surprised that the case seemed fine. “Mum will kill me if we don’t catch this train. If we get the next one we’ll have to change three times instead of once and I know for a fact she’s made about twelve quiches for lunch!”

Lance shot Gwen a look Merlin couldn’t read. Gwen’s eyes widened slightly before she dropped to her knees and grabbed her ankle. “Ow!” she yelled. “Ow, I think I’ve twisted my ankle.”

“From standing still?” Merlin yelled in exasperation, carefully ignoring the lo oks of students milling around the entrance to the small station. A whirring sound from behind Merlin caused him to spin around and throw his hands towards the train,  _his_  train as it began pulling away from the station. He dropped his head into his hands and groaned loudly.

Gwen, not looking anywhere near as contrite as Merlin wanted when he glared at her, seemed to recover from her injury remarkably quickly as she walked towards Merlin with a small smile. “Oh dear,” she said, amusement dripping from her words, “we seem to have missed the train. How  _ever_ will we get to Ealdor in time now?”

Lance snorted and tried to cover it up quickly by covering his mouth.

Merlin narrowed his eyes at the pair of them. “Alright,” and he did  _not_  fold his arms like Arthur, “what’s going on? You’re both being weird. And by that I mean weirder than usual.”

“Nothing,” Gwen smirked and tapped on her phone.

“Absolutely nothing, my friend,” Lance was clearly trying not to laugh.

“Come on,” Gwen tilted her head towards the small car park behind the station. “There’s no point standing here and complaining about missing the train.”

Merlin narrowed his eyes and remained rooted to the spot, his and Gwen’s bags laying uselessly on the ground either side of him.

Lance walked over and picked up his girlfriend’s bag. “Come on, birthday boy,” he grinned. “It’s for your own good.”

Merlin frowned but followed his friends anyway. “Gwen?” he called as she stopped next to a slightly battered looking Land Rover in the far corner. “What the…” He trailed off as he too reached the car and saw Arthur, sitting in the driver’s seat, smirkin g at him through the window. “Hell?”

“Happy Birthday!” Gwen was beaming at Merlin now. “I told you he didn’t really mean it when he said he wouldn’t come to Ealdor.”

Merlin didn’t know whether to strangle everyone or hug them. He settled on looking at them stupidly and opened the passenger door, his holdall hanging uselessly from his hand; Lance pulled it from him before it fell to the floor.

“You said you it would be a bad idea,” Merlin was still staring at Arthur.

“Don’t say anything else for the next ten minutes,” Arthur rolled his eyes. “We need to get out of here quickly. This is supposed to be covert,  _Mer_ lin, so get in before have people chasing us. I’ve already got Leon driving around in one car and Owain in another just in case Morgause or someone is still around. I never get to be covert so don’t ruin it!” p>

The flush in Merlin’s cheeks was entirely due to the biting February cold,  _thank you very much_. He clambered into the car quickly and fastened his seatbelt.

“Ah!” Arthur held up a warning finger when Merlin opened his mouth. “No speaking for ten minutes, remember?”

Merlin was so surprised he didn’t bother to argue, just turned his head and glared at his two friends in the back. Gwen smiled as angelically as possible and Lance was biting the inside of his cheeks.

Arthur reversed quickly, tugging his ( _still Merlin’s_ ) hat down lower and folding his collar up just in case. But nobody so much as blinked as the old car rumbled out of the car park and up the main road towards the outskirts of the city. Every couple of minutes Arthur would check the rear-view mirror extra carefully and frown slightly.

When t he car passed the  _Thank you for visiting Albion, home to England’s most historic University_  sign (the same one that a drunk student had scrawled  _Screw Mercia_ on after a particularly nasty Varsity rugby match ended Albion’s forty-year winning streak in 2010) Arthur breathed a sigh of relief.

Gwen and Lance were speaking softly to each other in the back, and Merlin watched as Arthur caught their eyes and nodded. Merlin frowned when Arthur didn’t follow the road to the motorway, instead turning right towards the nearby village of Essetir.

“Where are we going?” Merlin asked.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Seriously? You only had another thirty seconds until the ten minutes elapsed.” Arthur checked his mirrors, indicated and pulled the car over, half onto the grass verge that marked the road into the village. He turned to look at Gwen and Lance, “Leon’s just arrivi ng now. When Owain arrives we can set off, you can leave your bags in here. Gwen, can you call Merlin’s mother and make sure she knows that we’ll be on time?”

“Of course,” Gwen smiled, then grinned at Merlin. “Right, Lance, let’s leave them to it.”

Merlin’s mouth dropped open as his friends got out of the car. He craned his neck to watch through the rear window as they greeted Leon and climbed in to the familiar black car.

“Happy Birthday,” Arthur said quietly and Merlin swivelled to face him. “Sorry I told you I wouldn’t be able to see you today. I thought this might be…fun.”

And,  _God_ , he looked so earnest that Merlin had to restrain himself from grabbing Arthur’s face and kissing him until they both stopped breathing.

Arthur seemed to sense what Merlin was thinking. “Don’t worry,” he grinned. “There’s nobody to see us.” He leaned over and drew Merlin to his lips, both sighing as they felt the other yield completely. Merlin brought his hands up to run his thumbs over Arthur’s cheeks, smiling slightly when he felt the other boy shiver slightly under his touch.

Merlin eventually broke the kiss, laughing delightedly as he noticed Arthur’s pink cheeks, a grin splitting the Prince’s face as he stared back.

Merlin ducked his head, feeling slightly shy when Arthur didn’t look away. “You said you didn’t want to impose on my mother,  _and_  that you were too busy to come with me this weekend even if you thought visiting Wales was a good idea…which you apparently didn’t.”

“Covert, Merlin,” Arthur laughed, reaching up to tangle his fingers in Merlin’s hair. “Can’t let my boyfriend know all my secrets now, can I?” Arthur knew what he’d don e, Merlin saw how his eyes darted to the ground when he said ‘boyfriend’.

Merlin thought his face actually might crack if he tried to hold back the smile that was threatening to escape. “No,” he said eventually, waiting for Arthur to look at him properly, “I suppose not. But making me think I’d missed the train and that my mother was going to actually murder me? Well, that’s a rather ungentlemanly thing for my boyfriend to do, considering he’s supposed to have been brought up properly.”

Arthur ran his hand lightly down the side of Merlin’s face and smiled softly. “Happy Birthday.”

“You said that already,” Merlin’s eyes fell to Arthur’s lips once more.

“I like repeating myself when it comes to you.”

Arthur’s words were spoken against Merlin’s lips and it took only a fraction of movement from Me rlin to complete the kiss. Arthur ran the tip of his tongue lightly across Merlin’s lower lip and Merlin fought to stay upright. There was something about kissing Arthur that made him feel heady, as if he’d been holding his breath for too long and the room wouldn’t stop spinning. He’d kissed people before, but the feeling of exhilaration lessened over time, but with Arthur there was something…and he really hesitated to use the word…something  _magical_  about it. He tried not to dwell on what the Dragon had said about the past, about his own knowledge of King Arthur, about the fact that his mother had chosen the name  _Merlin_  above all others; but even if he didn’t think on it too much, there was something that felt an awful lot like Destiny wrapping itself around Merlin and his Prince every time they embraced.

Arthur drew back this time, dropping his head to Merlin’s shoulder. “I don’t think I’m used to that yet ,” he grinned into Merlin’s coat.

“I don’t think I ever will be,” Merlin spoke quietly, hoping that his words hadn’t sounded too soppy. He and Arthur weren’t like that…not aloud anyway. Merlin caught movement in the side mirror and squinted. “Arthur? Is there any reason I should be able to see Owain cycling up the road?”

Arthur sat up properly and grinned. “It’s called subterfuge, Merlin. Owain parked the car at Caruther’s,  _then_  got on his bike to cycle out here, thus tricking people. It’s a brilliant plan Merlin, and it’s all mine. You can be impressed now.”

“Is Owain getting in this car?”

“Don’t be an idiot  _Mer_ lin,” Arthur sighed loudly. “I told you this was a brilliant plan. Owain’s in the other car. As long as I make sure they stay behind us Leon has promised  _not_  to interfere, which m eans…” he trailed off with a smug smile, “I get you all to myself for the next three and half hours.”

“Lucky me,” Merlin rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. And so was Arthur.

 

**ooOOoo**

It was only when they crossed the border into Wales on the M4 that Merlin remembered his conversation with Morgana. He reached into his bag and pulled out his phone to text her.

Arthur took a break from singing along to Bruce Springsteen at the top of his voice (he’d already cycled through Toto, REO Speedwagon and John Farnham, and Merlin was beginning to wonder if Arthur had  _anything_  on his iPod that was recorded after 1989) to look at Merlin. “What are you doing?”

“Texting Morgana,” Merlin replied, his fingers tapping on the screen.

“Can you ask her if she’s coming straight to Ealdor or if Elyan wants to do a car switch somewhere?”

Merlin dropped his phone just as he pressed send. “What?  _Morgana’s_ coming?”

“Yes,” Arthur replied, totally unaffected by Mer lin’s surprise. “She called this morning and told me she was coming to Albion, I told her I was going to Ealdor with you and she refused to be left out.”

Merlin frowned. “Arthur, is my mum a-“

“Morgana has already spoken to your mother, who,  _by the way_ , thinks it’s a wonderful idea for your friends to celebrate your birthday with you. “Arthur shot Merlin a pointed look before returning his eyes to the road. “ _And_ she wanted to know why you had left it to us to arrange a surprise rather than just invite us anyway.”

Merlin’s mouth dropped open. “You dirty traitors! Mum’s going to be unbearable now.  _Oh God_ , I hope you told her not to tell anyone you were coming – if word gets out that you and Morgana are in the village you’ll be lucky if there’s a single journalist on Earth who doesn't know you're there.”

Arthur laughed loudly. “Apparently your mother has sworn to keep it a secret.”

Merlin was quiet for a long moment.

“Merlin?” Arthur asked, concern evident. “Fuck, have I messed up? I didn’t mean t-“

“No,” Merlin shook his head emphatically, “no, it’s not you. Well it  _is_ you, but not what you think.”

“You are aware I have no idea what you’re talking about again, right?” Arthur tapped his hands on the steering wheel as he pulled into a queue to pay the toll on an automated machine.

“I mean…” Merlin trailed off, biting his lip as Arthur tried to count out the required six pounds from the mound of change in the Defender’s glove box. “Arthur, my mum knows how I feel about you.”

Arthur looked up at that and quirked an eyebrow.

Merlin felt his cheeks heating once more. “In that she knows I liked you a lot when we got back from Paris. She’s been asking me questions ever since, but I’ve deflected because I didn’t know what to say...or what  _she_ would say.” He didn’t mention the fact that his mother had heard all about Arthur’s confession to Morgana, the confession that Merlin was still pretending he knew nothing about.

“Do you think she’ll be upset?” Arthur frowned, rolling the window down to throw coins into the toll basket.

Merlin was distracted enough by the somewhat incongruous image of the Prince of Wales casually throwing coins out of the window as if he did this journey every day to delay his reply for a moment. “Um… _no_ , no I don’t think she’ll be upset. But I think she’ll be worried.”

Arthur laughed. “I’m not going to besmirch your honou r, Merlin. At least not this weekend.”

Merlin’s eyes widened and the two of them spent the next three minutes concentrating entirely on the traffic around them.

“Sorry,” Arthur grimaced eventually, “that wasn’t brilliantly timed.”

“It’s just…my mum. She worries about me, she always has.” He sighed. “She worries about everyone she cares about; she met Morgana  _once_ , Arthur, and every time I speak to her on the phone she asks me how your sister is, or mentions some news article she’s seen about one of Morgana’s charities. She can get everything out of me just by looking; I’m not sure we’ll be able to fool her.”

“Do you  _want_  to fool her?” Arthur asked as Merlin’s text alert rang through the car.

“No, not really,” Merlin reached down to retrieve his phone from the footwell. � �But I’ll try, Arthur.”

“I don’t want to try,” Arthur said seriously. “Look, this isn’t exactly how I’d planned to have this conversation, but…even though I hate the fact it has to be a secret, well  _sort of_ secret, for now, it doesn’t mean I’m not taking it seriously. I  _am_  serious about this Merlin, about you and…about us.” He ducked his head, clearly embarrassed to be talking about this so candidly.

Merlin smiled. “So am I.” That seemed to be enough to reassert Arthur’s confidence and he checked the rear-view mirror with a smile.

Merlin groaned as he read the text message.

**From: Morgana  
25th February 2011**

Happy Birthday (again)!  
I take it you now know  
what’s going on. Hope  
you don’t mind me inviting  
myself. Thought it would  
be a good time to talk.  
Your mother seems quite  
excited. She can’t believe  
you didn’t invite us  
yourself. Ha! x

“I take back every nice thing I ever said about Morgana,” Merlin rolled his eyes.

“Why? Aside from the obvious fact that she’s actually a devious, conniving witch who loves to stick her nose in other people’s business.”

“She’s going to spend the whole weekend mocking me,” Merlin replied. “Which is clearly a Pendragon family trait.”

Arthur laughed. “Well,” he looked at the Sat Nav, “we’re about forty-five minutes from Ealdor, so I suggest you start mentally preparing now.”

“I hate  _you_  as well,” Merlin folded his arms.

“No, you don’t.”

_No, I don’t._

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin laughed loudly as he ran through the pitch-black back garden, neatly sidestepping a wayward gnome. But from the muffled  _oomph_  that came from behind him, either Arthur or Lance  _had_  fallen victim to his mother’s love of outdoor ornaments.

“Merlin Emrys!” Hunith called after her son. “Supper will be on this table in half an hour and if you’re not back you  _will_  be sorry!”

“Okay!” Merlin yelled back, Will racing alongside him, also grinning. The pair of them reached the wall at the same time, not slowing down as they held out their arms to push off the top of the stone and vault the low boundary with the skill of two boys who’d been doing the same thing for over a decade.

As Merlin landed on the other side, his foot caught a patch of ice and he skidded to a halt much further away than he’d anticipated. He do ubled over with laughter when he saw Will, or the bundle of limbs groaning on the floor, hadn’t been quite so fortunate. “I win!”

“You’re a lucky git, that’s all!” Will grumbled, Lance and Arthur climbing more cautiously over the wall behind him.

“You’re just jealous,” Merlin punched him on the arm. “Glad to see we’re still not too old for that.”

“Never!” Will wheezed slightly. “I guarantee we’ll both still be doing that when we’re eighty!”

“Merlin will probably have some ridiculous beard by then,” Arthur added. “He’ll get all tangled up in it and die. Although he’s quite likely to get himself killed by being ridiculous long before he’s eighty.”

“Wow, thanks,” Merlin rolled his eyes at Arthur’s smirk.

Will laughed. “He’s right, Merlin.”

“Oh great,” Merlin gestured towards his oldest friends. “Take  _his_ side. I’m just your friend.”

“Well, he is the Prince of Wales,” Will whispered conspiratorially, not that anyone would hear them as they were in a deserted field. “He basically owns the country we’re standing in. I’m staying on his good side.”

Arthur nodded, still smirking.

“What are we doing out here anyway?” Lance asked.

“It’s tradition,” Will intoned gravely. “Every year on Merlin’s birthday, apart from last year because he was too busy being a city boy to come home-“

“I had an essay due in!”

“ _To come home_ ,” Will repeated and gave Merlin a stern look. “Every year we go up to the top of the hill,” he pointed at a dark shape rising out of the fiel ds, “and Merlin here gets to make a wish by walking around the fairy ring three times.”

“Fairy ring?” Lance scrunched his nose up as they began walking again. “Aren’t they supposed to bring you bad luck, or something?”

Will took a torch out of his pocket and pointed it at the ground so they could see where they were walking. “That’s why he walks  _around_  it,” he explained. “We’ve never dared step inside the fairy ring. Not even when we were little.”

Merlin half-expected Arthur to make some comment about that being ridiculous, and then thought about it. Two months ago Arthur probably  _would_  have laughed at such a superstition, but now he knew something of magic, feared it.

Lance launched into further questions about the legends that surrounding the area and Will lit up as he got to impart local knowledge. Merlin flinched slightly when he felt something brush against his hand, relaxing only when he realised it was Arthur tangling their fingers together, standing so close in the dark it would be impossible for anyone to tell they were holding hands.

“Hi,” Arthur said quietly as they allowed Will and Lance to walk slightly ahead of them.

“Hi.” Merlin squeezed his hand.

“I don’t think I’ve actually managed two words to you since we got here,” Arthur replied, squeezing back.

Merlin laughed. “Yes, mum’s being quite… _intense_. I’ve never seen her so prepared for guests before. Normally she’s still flailing around in the guest room when people arrive and I get shipped upstairs to find fresh towels while she makes everyone tea and smiles a lot. I think she was quite happy when Gwen and Morgana volunteered to help her finish supper though.”

“She did look quite shocked when she realised that Leon and Owain were here as well,” Arthur grinned. “Her face when Owain came back in the taxi was priceless.” The  _official_  car had been driven to a residence in Cardiff and parked for the weekend, the Land Rover looking innocuous enough to leave outside the cottage as everyone knew Merlin was coming home with friends. Leon folded into the very back of the Defender had been a sight though, and he hadn’t quite managed to look like a uni student as he clambered out of the back dressed head to toe in black cashmere.

“It was more  _their_ faces when she told them they’d have to share the living room as it was the only place she could fit two air mattresses,” Merlin chuckled. “I can’t wait to see that later. At least Elyan’s going to come back and take Morgana to Cardiff later – otherwise I have no idea where people would end up sleeping.”

Arthur laughed and pulled Merlin impossibly closer, their shoulders bumping with every step. The Prince took in a deep breath and tilted his head up to see the sky. “Why does  _anyone_  live in London when they could live here?”

Merlin started slightly. “You like it here?”

“It’s brilliant,” Arthur grinned again. “You can actually see the sky properly. Plus nobody’s following me, I’m not worried about Morgause Gorlois jumping out from behind a wheelie bin, which she’s now done  _twice_ , and because…” he drew Merlin to a halt, “I can do this if I’m very careful.” He looked quickly at Will and Lance’s retreating backs before leaning down to quickly press his lips to Merlin’s.

Merlin’s surprised breath whispered into Arthur’s warm mouth and he blinked slowly when the Prince pulled away. “You shouldn’t be doing that, ” he whispered as Arthur tugged him to catch up with the other two.

“It’s not my fault,” Arthur smiled rejoining their hands.

“Oi!” Will called. “Hurry up! I  _would_  actually like to eat tonight.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, but they picked up their pace anyway, reaching the top of the small hill a few minutes later.

“Right,” Will blew into his hands to warm them. “Get on with it, Merlin.” He threw the torch to his friend and Merlin silently cheered for himself when he actually caught it.

Merlin took two steps to bring him closer to the outer edge of the ring, the same way he had for the last fifteen years (previous birthday notwithstanding). He took a deep breath and thought about what to wish for. Holding the image in his head he walked around the ring in a counter-clockwise direction, taking slow measur ed steps as tradition dictated.

At the end of his third circuit Merlin felt his magic tingle slightly. He flinched in the dark and tried to convince himself it was because of the fond look he could just about make out on Arthur’s face.

 

**ooOOoo**

“Merlin,” his mother put a hand on his arm later that night as he helped her make up the spare bed in his room, “I’ve seen the way you are around the Prince.”

“ _Mum_ ,” Merlin warned, knowing that Arthur was downstairs and they hadn’t closed the door.

“He cares for you a great deal,” Hunith smiled softly. “And I can see that you care for him.”

Merlin busied himself with a pillowcase, somehow losing the ability to find a corner.

“I think he needs you Merlin, maybe even more than you realise. And you need him too.”

Merlin continued his battle with the pillow.

“Oh, give me that,” Hunith said, gently removing the linen from her son’s grasp. “I’m just trying to tell you that I’m pleased to see you so happy, M erlin. I know things have been difficult at times…and you deserve to be happy, my darling boy.  _You_  more than anyone.”

Merlin didn’t move away when his mother wrapped her arms around him; instead he held her tightly to his chest.

“He still doesn’t know about my magic,” Merlin whispered, barely able to hear the words himself.

“He will know when the time is  _right_ ,” Hunith nodded sagely as she stepped back. “I’m your mother and therefore wise, so you should listen to me.”

Merlin laughed, tension leaving his shoulders as she looked at him adoringly.

“Now,” Hunith said with a small grin, “should I read Gwen and Lance the riot act before I let them share a room? Or would that be too mortifying for you.”

“Please don’t,” Merlin blushed. “I don’t think I co uld cope with that right now.”

The doorbell rang.

“That must be Elyan,” Merlin said.

“Really, Merlin, should the Princess be heading into Cardiff?”

“Cardiff’s not exactly crime central, Mum,” he rolled his eyes. “Plus Elyan and Galahad are like a crack bodyguard team. She’s staying in the same place she always does when she comes to Wales.”

Hunith ‘hmmd’ as she and her son headed downstairs.

Merlin opened the door and greeted Elyan, the small hallway suddenly very full of people.

“Hunith, thank you  _so_ much for such a wonderful evening,” Morgana enveloped Merlin’s startled mother in a warm hug. Merlin noted, however, it didn’t take long for Hunith to return the embrace with equal joy.

“Any time, my lovel y,” Hunith smiled. “And we’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Definitely,” Morgana beamed. “I believe Merlin’s going to show us around.”

“That’s not going to take very long,” Merlin shrugged with a smile.

“Happy Birthday again,” Merlin leaned over to hug him. “Remember what I said about that dream,” she added in a whisper as she kissed his cheek.

Merlin nodded seriously as she stepped back and added a smile before anyone noticed. The creature in her dream didn’t sound at all pleasant – he’d called Gaius earlier and left him a message. His godfather would be visiting tomorrow and Merlin needed to make sure they had a good idea of what this monster might be before then. He had an idea, with a vague memory from reading the legends at school, but didn’t want to give voice to it just yet.

 

**ooOOoo**

Arthur stood awkwardly in Merlin’s bedroom. He’d just closed the door behind him and was holding a pouch of toiletries in one hand. With the other he gestured towards Merlin.

“What?” Merlin asked from where he was perched on the camp bed. “ _Oh God_ , are you going to be all noble and declare that I can’t possibly sleep on the guest bed because it’s my room, and you’ll take the back pain because you’re a prince and have been bred to face terrible battles with furniture?”

Arthur laughed slightly at that. “That about sums it up.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Merlin stood up and crossed the room in two strides. He took the pouch from Arthur’s hand and placed it on his desk, before returning to the other boy and sliding his arms around his waist. “Hi.”

“Hi again,” Arthur said quietly, his hands resting on Merlin’s hips.

“Thank you for today,” Merlin smiled. “You really didn’t have to come here, you know. Not that I’m not thrilled that you did.”

“Are you sure you’re an English student?” Arthur grinned and ducked when Merlin tried to swat him on the back of the head. “Anyway, don’t thank me yet, I haven’t given you your present.”

Merlin frowned.

“No,” Arthur laughed, “as wonderful as I know I am,  _I_  am not actually the present.” He stepped away from Merlin and unzipped his weekend bag. He retrieved two haphazardly wrapped gifts from the top. “Sorry about the wrapping,” he scratched the back of his neck as Merlin took the parcels with a smile, “I’m not very good at…you know.”

Merlin  _would_ admit to his heart fluttering this time; it was his  _Birthday_ , he was allowed. He looked at the flowing script on the tag  _Dear Merlin, Happy Birthday. Morgana had nothing to do with this, no matter what she’ll try to tell you later. A_

“Go on then,” Arthur gestured.

Merlin ripped at the wrapping on the first present and his eyes snapped up to Arthur.

“I’m keeping your hat,” Arthur’s eyes drifted to the floor. “So I thought you should have this.”

Merlin ran his hands over the soft material of the red hoodie he hadn’t seen since Paris. His heart thudded almost painfully in his chest as he held the material closer to him.

“Oh please don’t get all emotional,” Arthur smirked, but Merlin could see the hesitation in his eyes.

“I’m not,” Merlin smiled. “Thank you, Arthur.”

“N ow open the other one,” Arthur pointed at the smaller item, “I’d be a fairly rubbish boyfriend if I just gave you a second-hand item of clothing.”

Merlin put the hoodie on the bed and turned his attention to the second package.

“I admit, Morgana  _might_  have given me the idea for this one,” Arthur shrugged.

Merlin tugged at the paper until he was faced with a brown cardboard box. He opened it at one end and reached inside; his fingers closed over cool metal and he pulled the object out. He laughed as a small, toy helicopter appeared from inside the box, remembering Morgana’s suggestion at Christmas.

“I’d get you a real one, you know,” Arthur said, looking  _almost_  shy, “if you wanted one. Or a castle. Or a  _country_. I’d give you anything you wanted…and I’m not scared about that anymore.”

Merlin blinked, clutching the helicopter tightly in one hand as Arthur’s words washed over him. He launched himself at Arthur and covered the Prince’s lips with his own, only seconds passing before Merlin opened his mouth to Arthur’s. He wrapped his free arm tightly around Arthur’s back drawing him in until there was barely a gap between their bodies. The kiss deepened quickly, hands grasping more desperately at fabric as they sought for purchase anywhere they could reach.

When Merlin eventually stepped away, it was only to place the helicopter carefully on his bedside table, switch off the lamp and pull back the covers on his old single bed. He held out a hand to Arthur and pulled the other boy down onto the mattress with him. Merlin shifted so that his back was against the wall, lying on his side as he faced a slightly wide-eyed Arthur.

“Sleep here with me,” Merlin whispered into the darkness, Art hur’s features just visible in the sliver of moonlight than filtered through a crack in the curtains.

Arthur looked for a moment as if he wanted to object, but the uncertainty disappeared when Merlin brought a hand up to run it through his hair. They’d never done this before, never really been able to; Arthur had never stayed at Merlin’s flat past seven or eight o’clock, Leon being sure not to let Arthur slip out again without a bodyguard – Merlin had agreed wholeheartedly, much to Arthur’s initial dismay, but eventually the Prince had realised how worried about him Merlin truly was.

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered after long moments passed, eyelids feeling heavier as both boys’ breathing slowed.

“Hmm?” Merlin blinked sleepily as Arthur put his arm around his waist and pulled them closer together once more. There were far too many limbs and altogether too much  _person em > to fit into the narrow bed, but Merlin didn’t want to be anywhere else._

“I…” Arthur sighed. “Goodnight, Merlin.”

“Goodnight, Arthur,” Merlin replied, a small smile making its way unbidden onto his lips. He waited until he was sure the other boy had fallen asleep before whispering the words that had ached to escape from the moment Arthur had taken his hand that night, words that had felt as natural as breathing, not like the slam of realisation he’d been led to believe he’d feel.

“I love you.”

Merlin closed his eyes.

In the distance a creature screamed.

* * *

“So the people who claim they saw him in Ealdor were incorrect?”

Merlin stilled. What people? Nobody had ever said anything about Arthur being in Ealdor. “ _Obviously_ they were,” he choked out eventually. “Yes, definitely incorrect.”


	27. Chapter 27

“It’s just that there are two or three people who claim that both the Prince and Princess were in Ealdor with you that weekend,” Morgause was  _not_  letting this go.

Merlin felt his hackles rise. “As I said they must be mistaken. Arthur was in Kensington, and I believe the Princess was conducting charity work in Cardiff.”

“So it was just a quiet birthday weekend?”

“Yes,” Merlin replied. “Nothing exciting ever happens in Ealdor.”

* * *

Merlin’s body went rigid as the scream tore through the night’s peace; next to him Arthur snuffled softly, but did not wake. Merlin listened carefully; he couldn’t hear any other movement in the house.

 _No way did I imagine that,_ he thought. This conclusion was supported by the fact he felt a familiar tingling under his skin, a more noticeable flare than he’d experienced near the fairy ring.  _Oh please just be a very loud, angry fox…_

He jerked in surprise when the screech repeated itself, kicking Arthur in the shin.

“Merlin,” Arthur mumbled sleepily, “I could have you put in the stocks for that.”

Merlin barely had the capacity to consider Arthur’s odd choice of threat, as he was too busy listening for any further noise from outside.

“Go to sleep,” the Prince continued softly, his hand tightening its grip on the back of Merlin’s t-shirt.

Merlin shook his head slightly as he took in Arthur’s peaceful expression.  _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ , Merlin yelled at himself,  _you need to do something. **Now!**_ Closing his eyes with a sigh Merlin reached his hand down until his fingers curled over Arthur’s wrist. He gently tugged on the other boy’s arm, ignoring Arthur’s mumbled protests as he awkwardly extricated himself from the tangle of blankets and arms. Merlin sat up and shuffled to the end of the mattress, sliding his feet into his boots before standing up.

Arthur rolled into the space left by Merlin, his face buried in the pillow. “What are you doing  _now_? If you keep this up Merlin I’m never sharing a bed with you again.”

Merlin walked to the side of the bed and held back the words he wanted to sa y.  _Don’t joke about that Arthur, **please**  don’t joke about that right now. _Instead he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the back of Arthur’s neck. “I’m just going to get a glass of water. Too much cake, far too much sugar. Go back to sleep.”

Arthur grunted noncommittally and buried deeper into the blankets.

Merlin tiptoed from the room, pulling his duffle coat from the hook on the back of his door and grabbing his phone before he stepped out onto the landing, shutting the door softly behind him. He crept down the stairs, momentarily debating whether or not to wake Leon and Owain; but then he’d have to tell them about his magic, and as willing as they were to keep Merlin and Arthur a secret from Uther out of loyalty to their Prince, they surely wouldn’t be able to keep this secret.

He carefully unlocked the back door and shivered as he stepped outside into the garden, wishing he’d grabbed a jumper as well as his coat. He hurried to the end of the garden and looked out into the darkness; the moon was full, but even with the light from its beams it was impossible to see much in the rolling landscape, only the odd twinkle of light in distant windows suggesting anyone in the village was still awake. He couldn’t risk conjuring a light this close to the house, just in case anyone looked out of the window. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Merlin managed to get his freezing fingers to call up Gaius’ number and hoped beyond hope that his Godfather would answer the phone this time.

“Merlin?” Gaius sounded concerned. “What’s wrong?”

Merlin sighed with relief. “Gaius, Arthur’s in danger. I think we all are.”

“Is this about the message you left earlier?” Gaius asked, sounding more awake by the second. “I was going to discuss my findings with you tomorrow.”

“We don’t have until tomorrow, Gaius,” Merlin hissed as he thought he caught a flash of  _something_  in the distance. “I think it, whatever  _it_ is, is here. In Ealdor.”

“Merlin, you need to get everyone out of there,” Gaius sounded more panicked than Merlin had ever heard him. “If Morgana’s description is to be believed I fear the creature you’re speaking of is a Griffin.”

Merlin’s stomach twisted, that’s what he’d thought but really didn’t want to believe. “Okay,” he replied eventually, not really having any other choice but to accept it as fact. “What can I do about it?”

“Merlin, a Griffin can only be killed by magical means,” Gaius spoke gravely, “you must not go after it on your own. It would be sensible to wait until I can do some further research into the best way of stopping it. It would be better to get Arthur to safety.”

“Gaius, I told you,” Merlin sighed as he began to climb over the wall with more difficulty than earlier, “we don’t have time. I can’t just sit here and  _do nothing_. I don’t the Griffin is likely to agree to come back at more convenient time, do you?”

Gaius sighed and Merlin could imagine the disapproval being conveyed through the arch of one eyebrow. “Then be very careful, my boy. The Griffin will kill anything that stands in its way.”

“Merlin?”

Merlin whirled around, his phone falling from his hand in surprise. “Lance! What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Lance was looking at Merlin in concern. “I thought I heard something, I looked out of the window and saw you.”

Another screech penetrated the silence of the valley and there was no way that Merlin could pretend he was the only one hearing it, not when Lance’s eyes widened.

“What was that?” Lance asked, his eyes roving across the landscape.

“If I told you it was a Griffin, what would you say?” Merlin ran a hand across his face as he reached down to retrieve his phone, the call to Gaius ended.

“I’d say I believe you, considering it’s you,” Lance replied.

Merlin shook his head at how easily Lance had always accepted the existence of magic. “I think it’s here to kill Arthur.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I can’t tell you,” Merlin replied; he wasn’t going to divulge Morgana’s secret, not even to one of his closest friends. “But I’m asking you to go back inside Lance and make s ure everyone stays there. If Arthur’s awake don’t let him leave the house.  _Please_.”

Lance shook his head. “No. You’re not facing that thing on your own.” Before Merlin could protest Lance was striding towards the hill, straight towards where the Griffin’s screech had originated.

“Lance!” Merlin hissed, hurrying to catch up. “Lance, wait!”

“Merlin, I can help you,” Lance replied, increasing his pace to a run.

“You can’t!” Merlin responded. “The Griffin can only be killed by magic. I have to do this on my own.”

“Do you know how?” Lance asked as they crested the brow of the hill, both careful not to step through the fairy ring.

“No,” Merlin answered. He was running through every spell he’d ever learned and finding nothing useful. He hoped he could rely on what Gaius called his ‘elemental’ magic, and what Merlin had secretly termed ‘Point and Shoot.’ “But I’ll think of something.”

Lance’s arm was suddenly across Merlin’s chest, barring him from moving forward. “Look.”

Merlin did look and then wished he hadn’t. Despite the lack of light, there was no mistaking the colossal dark shape moving towards them; Merlin could see large, yellow eyes glinting in the darkness and fought his body’s natural instinct to turn and run. He took a step towards it and held out a hand. “Ástríce.” Merlin hissed, The Griffin paused briefly, but instead of retreating, it began to beat its wings faster and faster as it charged towards the two boys on the hill.

“Bloody hell,” Lance whispered. “We need to do something!”

“Lance, get out of here!” Merlin yelled desperately. “Please just go!” He turned his attention back to the Griffin and tried again. “Ástríce!” he tried again.

Talons flashed in the moonlight as the Griffin continued to relentlessly charge at them. A razor sharp beak becoming more and more prominent as the creature advanced.

“Lance! Go!” Merlin grabbed his friend’s arm and pushed him backwards. Lance stumbled slightly, but did not fall.

“I’m not leaving, Merlin!” Lance picked up a branch. “I’m going to distract it while you work out how to kill it.”

“Lance!” Merlin yelled, but Lance was running full pelt towards the Griffin now. “Lance! Stop!”

“Merlin?  _Merlin_!”

Merlin’s blood froze, every nerve in his body responding to the distant call of Arthur’s voice. “No!” Merlin screamed as the Griffin, seemingly sensing a better tar get nearby, dodged Lance and headed directly towards Merlin, towards the sound of  _Arthur’s_  voice.

The Griffin screeched and Merlin could do nothing but run towards it yelling  _Ástríce_ over and over and over again, tryingto will more power into the word each time.  _Please, please, please_ he begged anything that would listen.

He didn’t see the talon until it was too late; the curved side of the claw caught him in the chest, sending him skittering across the field, rolling until the breath was knocked out of him.

“Merlin!” Arthur was yelling again, sounding closer than before. He thought there were other voices but he couldn’t be sure, his head felt like it was in a vice as his magic willed him to get up, to keep fighting.

Merlin opened one eye from where he lay on the ground, unable to see anything but the creature advancing t owards him. He opened his mouth, desperate to tell Arthur to run, to take everyone and just  _run_. But only a wheeze crossed his lips, his lungs still protesting against the rough treatment they’d received.

“Merlin!” It was Lance, suddenly rushing in front of him, blocking his path to the Griffin, brandishing the branch, as if that piece of wood would somehow be enough to defeat the gigantic beast before him.

“Lance,” Merlin managed to gasp, uselessly as his words couldn’t be heard over the screeching Griffin. The Griffin reared up, ready to bring its claws down on top of Lance.

Merlin stilled, feeling as if he was no longer in control of his body. His eyes snapped open and he looked directly at Lance. “Bregdan anweald gafeluc.” The words were no more than a whisper, but they felt powerful on his tongue, dredging up the same sense of antiquity as the words he’d yel led at the Sidhe in Paris had. They were the right words, he was  _certain_  of that, but even in his breathless state he was also certain that he’d never heard them before.

The branch in Lance’s hand glowed blue for the briefest of moments, so rapid it could have been a trick of the light. But then the Griffin was swooping down as Lance drove the wood upwards, piercing the body of the creature with a sickening crunch.

The Griffin let out an unearthly cry as it was hurled backwards by the force of the blow. Merlin felt the ground shake beneath him as the Griffin’s body flailed against the earth before finally stilling.

“Merlin!” Arthur was yelling again and Merlin could hear the alarm in his voice. “Jesus Christ, Merlin, are you alright?”

Merlin tried to draw in a deep breath, but only managed to achieve a series of short painful coughs as Ar thur practically threw himself to his knees beside him.

“Merlin?” Arthur was drawing him against his chest and Merlin hissed at the tightness of his arms around his ribs. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Merlin, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Merlin panted slightly as he pushed himself up so he wasn’t entirely sprawled across Arthur. “Where’s Lance?”

“I’m here,” Lance’s voice was perfectly steady. “I’m fine. It’s dead, Merlin. It’s dead.”

Merlin sagged again, this time with relief, and Arthur clutched him tighter, Merlin could feel the Prince’s cheek pressed against the top of his head whispering a variety of colourful language and threats into his hair.

“Fuck  _me_!”

“Will?” Merlin looked around in confusion, spying his friend, armed with what appeared to be a spat ula.

“What in the bloody hell is that thing?” Will pointed at the felled beast

A sound like a magnified whip crack cut through the clearing. The body of the Griffin was engulfed in a red light for a long moment, flaring brighter until it disappeared leaving only a rag-tag bunch of boys in various states of dress, all looking at each other in confusion.  _Oh_ , and apparently Leon and Owain, Merlin noted, although they were dressed as usual…Merlin blamed the impact his head had taken for wondering if they had to sleep in their uniforms.

“Oi! What are you doing on my land?” A very,  _very_  angry voice was yelling at them. “Why are you making all that racket?”

“Okay, we need to go  _now_ ,” Will spoke in a very low voice. “If Kendrick catches us he might actually kill us! Even the Prince over here.”

That seemed to spur Leon into action. He crouched by Merlin’s side and helped Arthur get him to his feet.

“I’ve got him, Arthur,” Leon spoke brusquely, the  _don’t argue with me_  very clear even though it remained unspoken, Arthur hesitated before stepping back. “Merlin,” Leon addressed, “sorry about this, but it’s for the best.”

Merlin let out a harsh breath when Leon’s arm tightened painfully around his ribcage, but he didn’t protest as they began to move quickly back towards the hill.

“Do you think you need a doctor?” Leon asked quietly.

“No,” Merlin shook his head. “I’m just a bit bruised. It winded me when it hit me, that’s all.”

“Arthur,” Leon was using his authoritative tone again, “go with Owain. You need to be quick, we can’t risk anyone seeing you.”

“I’ll help him, Arthur,” Lance appeared at Merlin’s other side, allowing Merlin to wrap his own arm around his friend’s to steady himself.

Arthur looked like he wanted to argue so Merlin looked hard at him. “Arthur, go. I’m fine. Will, go with them. You need to go in the dark or they’ll see you.”

Will grabbed Arthur’s arm and pulled the remonstrating Prince after him, Owain put the torch he’d been using to light their way back in his pocket as he hurried to catch up.

“Oi! Where’ve you gone?” Kendrick was yelling, getting closer.

Merlin called up his reserves of energy. “Bene læg gesweorc,” he whispered, tilting his head down to hide the telltale flash of gold in his eyes. Almost immediately a mist began to swirl around them; just as it had whenever he and Will didn’t fancy running cross country in a PE lesson an d Merlin had called on a thick fog to postpone that trial for another week.

“Bloody kids!” Kendrick shouted angrily, and Merlin knew the mist was too thick for him to be able to see them any longer. He could just about see the blue flashing lights of police cars heading up the track towards Kendrick’s farm in the distance.

“What just happened?” Leon asked as they cleared the hill, once more avoiding the fairy ring. “What were you both doing out there?”

“It was a Griffin, Leon,” Merlin replied, Lance clearly unsure what Leon’s position on, and knowledge of, magic was remained quiet.

“How do you know that?”

“I recognised it from pictures at school,” Merlin replied. Strictly speaking that was actually the truth. “Body of lion, head and wings of an eagle. It was here for Arthur. It  _must_  have been.

“And you killed it with a branch?” Leon was understandably incredulous.

“We were lucky,” Lance replied carefully. “Very lucky.”

When they reached the boundary wall of the cottage a hysterical Gwen came rushing through the garden to throw herself at Lance. “Oh my God, Lance!” she cried. “What were you doing? Don’t do things like that! Don’t do that to me.”

Lance wrapped her in a protective hold, hushing her cries with soothing words as he guided her back into the house. A pale-faced Hunith’s eyes darting between the sobbing girl and her only son, who was still being propped up by over six foot of bodyguard until they reached the kitchen.

Owain was standing in the corner, still holding a gun in his hand as if he expected another threat to materialise at any moment. Will, in the same vein, was still brand ishing his mother’s spatula.

But it was Arthur who Merlin sought out immediately. Arthur, who was in the process of filling the teapot with boiling water and taking handfuls of mugs out of the cupboard. His back was to the rest of them, but Merlin could see the tension in his shoulders, his hands shaking enough for the mugs to clang together as he lifted them down.

Leon helped Merlin to sit at the kitchen table and silence descended on the room, broken only by Gwen’s increasingly quiet sniffles and Arthur pouring tea. Nobody moved as the Prince put a heaped teaspoon of sugar into each of the eight mugs.

“It will help with the shock,” Arthur said as he passed a mug to Hunith, clasping her hands tightly as he did so. “You should sit down.”

Hunith allowed the Prince to guide her into a chair, her gaze once more returning to Merlin as Arthur turned away to continue handing out mugs to everyone else.

Arthur placed a mug in front of Merlin, never making eye contact. “I suspect,” Arthur stated, and his voice sounded too loud for the small room, “that almost everyone in this room knows that the creature tonight was of magical origin. Whether your knowledge of magic comes from years of preparation,” his eyes roamed over Leon and Owain,” or has come from  _other sources_ , there can be no question that tonight’s events were pre-meditated by an entity who wished to do harm to someone in this room.”

Merlin watched as everyone else was drawn in by Arthur’s display of confidence. This was what he’d been brought up to do, after all, wasn’t it? Lead his people through whatever hardships they faced, even if ‘people’ in this case meant seven other terrified souls crammed into a kitchen. But Merlin could see how tightly Arthur was clutching the mug to his chest; all was not well in the mind of the Prince of Wales.

“I ask each of you to keep the events of tonight to yourselves,” Arthur continued, oblivious to Merlin’s character study. “I do not wish for authorities of any kind,  _including_  His Majesty the King, to be aware of what took place tonight. It would raise too many questions about my presence, the presence of my sister, and invite further intrusion into all our lives.” His tone softened and he crouched down next to Hunith. “Hunith,” he took her hand, “Merlin’s fine, everyone’s fine. You should try and sleep, I’ll make sure everything is okay.”

Hunith looked at Arthur for a long moment, her eyes cycling through a myriad of emotions. Eventually she reached out carefully and wrapped her arms around him, drawing him close. Arthur caught Merlin’s eye over her shoulder and Merlin could see the war of emotions on his face as he ret urned her embrace.

“I’ll take Gwen upstairs,” Lance said quietly, not waiting for any confirmation before pulling his girlfriend closer to him and leading her out of the kitchen and up to the spare room.

“Mum,” Merlin said, his voice sounding shaky to his own ears. “Come on, I’ll take you up. Give me your tea to carry.”

Will stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll do it, Merlin,” he said, nodding slightly. “I think you just need to sit there for a while.”

Merlin bowed his head in acquiescence, accepting a kiss on the forehead from his mother and silently thanked the universe for sending him Will as a friend.

“We’ll go and make sure whatever it was is really gone,” Leon said a moment later, gesturing to Owain. “We’ll be back soon, but you two should really get some rest.”

Merlin gingerly took a sip of his tea, flinching slightly when the hot liquid touched his still-cold lips. Arthur remained silent even after his bodyguards closed the back door behind them. He just continued to lean against the kitchen counter, as far away from Merlin as possible.

“You knew what you were doing,” Arthur said eventually, his words so soft they could barely be heard, even in the silent kitchen.

“What?” Merlin asked, his heart thumping. God, had Arthur seen him use magic? Had he worked out that  _something_  intervened to sway the events in their favour.

“When you left me,” Arthur clarified.

 _Oh. **That**_.

“Once again you  _willingly_  threw yourself into a dangerous situation,” Arthur’s voice had risen slightly, but was still dangerously low, “with no regar d for your safety. Why didn’t you tell me what you were doing?”

“Would you have stayed behind if I had?” Merlin asked.

“Of course not!”

“Exactly.” Merlin put his mug down with more force than was entirely necessary, the jangle of ceramic on wood causing him to jump slightly. “I didn’t know what was out there, Arthur, but I just  _knew_  it was here for you.”

“You don’t know that,” Arthur shook his head, anger trying to mask his concern.

“Yes, I do,” Merlin shrugged. “Who else would a magical creature be after? Gwen? Will?  _Me_?”

Arthur folded his arms, a gesture Merlin hadn’t seen in weeks. “Regardless,  _Mer_ lin, there were two heavily armed guards right here. Why didn’t you tell Leon?”

“I didn’t want to put t hem in danger.”

Arthur barked out a harsh laugh. “So you thought it was okay for  _you_  to put yourself in danger?”

“Arthur,” Merlin sighed, refusing to raise his voice and be drawn into a shouting match at God-knows o’clock in the morning, “I’ve told you before, I will  _always_  do whatever it takes to protect you.”

“That’s not your job,” Arthur snapped.

“Yes, it is,” Merlin replied softly. “I’m  _meant_  to protect you.”

Arthur frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Merlin was silent for a long moment. “Nothing,  _nothing_. Just that I would do the same for anyone I…care about.”

Arthur put his face in his hands, scrubbing his fingers over his eyes and back up again. “Do you realise I thought I’d lost you?” he asked quietly, his features still hidden from Merlin.

Merlin felt like his stomach bottomed out at Arthur’s words. He knew exactly what Arthur was feeling; he’d felt it when he’d seen the Prince lying lifeless on the Tuileries quayside. He dropped his chin to his chest, ghosting his fingers over his aching ribs.

“Sorry!”

Merlin looked up to see Will sheepishly peering round the doorframe.

“I just need to grab this,” Will stretched an arm in to the room and picked up his ‘weapon’. “Mum’ll be going spare by now, I’m sure, and if I go back without  _this_  she’ll probably kill me.” He shot Merlin a pointed look, narrowing his eyes before gesturing towards Arthur.

Merlin shook his head slightly. “ _Goodnight,_ Will,” Merlin said through gritted teeth as Will went slightly wide-eyed.

“Happy Birthday again, mate,” Will replied. “Nice to meet you, Arthur.”

Arthur waved without looking up from the floor and Will shrugged, the front door closing behind him a few seconds later.

“You can stay here and brood, Arthur,” Merlin said grouchily as he got to his feet, muscles protesting as he moved, “but I’m going to bed.”

Arthur remained silent as Merlin carefully stepped around the table, but as he reached the door the Prince’s arm shot out to curl around Merlin’s wrist. Arthur just nodded, his fingers slipping down to take Merlin’s hand.

Merlin left the light on in the kitchen for when Leon and Owain returned, before going to secure the front door, all the while holding on to a silent Arthur. He tugged the other boy upstairs and lightly pushed him onto the camp bed as he divested himself of his coat and toed off his trusty boots.

He pulled out his phone and sent a quick message to Gaius, just letting him know that nobody had died (except for the Griffin). He didn’t mention the red flash – he could talk that through with him tomorrow.

“I should see Mum quickly,” Merlin said.

“No,” Arthur shook his head, “let her sleep Merlin. She needs it.”

Arthur pulled off the UA hoodie he had hastily shrugged on when he’d gone tearing off after Merlin, leaving it pool on the floor as he reached out to take Merlin’s hands.

“Let me see,” Arthur said quietly, standing slowly and dropping his fingers to the hem of Merlin’s t-shirt, the pad of his thumbs running lightly across the skin beneath.

Merlin shivered under the touch, but allowed Arthur to pull the long sleeve t-shirt over his he ad. He could feel heat blossoming on his cheeks; he hadn’t yet grown out of the self-consciousness that comes with being a skinny teenager and had managed to keep his clothes very firmly in place for the past six weeks.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Arthur breathed quietly, one hand covering his mouth, the other reaching out abortively towards Merlin’s chest.

Merlin looked down and was surprised to see angry purple bruises already beginning to form on either side of his sternum, wrapping around towards his back. A vivid red mark, the outline of the curved talon clear, ran across his stomach, standing out garishly against the usually alabaster skin. “It’s not that bad,” he whispered. “I bruise like a peach.”

Arthur looked at him, wide-eyed, his hand still over his mouth.

Merlin could see practically see the guilt settling over Arthur’s features. “No, Ar thur,” he gently prised Arthur’s hand away from his mouth, twining their fingers together, “this isn’t your fault. You really don’t need to feel guilty about this.”

Arthur remained silent, but he dropped his eyes to look back at the bruising. He reached his free hand out once more, ghosting the tips of his fingers across the red welt. Merlin forced himself not to flinch at the contact, for fear of Arthur’s guilt growing further.

Merlin watched Arthur’s eyes as they carefully tracked and catalogued each bruise.  _This_  was Arthur, Merlin knew, the boy who would one day lead his country, but who would always care too much about  _everything_. He tilted Arthur’s chin back up, drawing his gaze away from the bruises.

“I hadn’t really thought you’d looked so horrified when I finally took my t-shirt off,” Merlin tried to laugh, but choked on it slightly when he saw the storm of emotion in Arthur’s eyes.

Merlin barely managed to breathe Arthur’s name before a warm mouth on his own stole his breath from him. Arthur trailed kisses across his cheeks, coming to rest with a press of lips against Merlin’s forehead. Merlin knew that each brush of lips was an apology; Arthur’s touch almost reverent in its gentleness.

Arthur whispered against his skin, words too soft for Merlin to hear.

“What did you say?” an exhalation of breath.

Arthur pulled back, only to rest his forehead against Merlin’s a second later. “I said…”Arthur took a deep breath, “I love you.”

Merlin wobbled; he actually felt his whole body list slightly in surprise.

Arthur, clearly dissatisfied with his hesitant delivery leaned back and looked directly at Merlin. “I love you.

“But you’re…” Merlin trailed off. “ _You_.”

Arthur laughed softly. “Merlin, I don’t believe it’s customary to try and talk someone out of a declaration. Usually, people t-“

“I love you,” Merlin nodded, probably more than was necessary, effectively cutting Arthur’s ramble off.

“You do?” Arthur asked slowly, almost like he wasn’t sure Merlin was telling him the truth.

“I do,” Merlin was still nodding. “Really quite stupid for you actually, if I’m honest.”

Arthur beamed and Merlin felt a great sense of relief as the other boy visibly relaxed before him.

“Well I already knew you were stupid,” Arthur laughed.

“Hilarious,” Merlin rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. “Now can we please go to be d? I feel like…” He almost said  _death_  but caught himself for Arthur’s sake.

“Like a giant bird-lion tried to kill you?” Arthur asked and Merlin huffed a laugh. Arthur was doing this for  _Merlin’s_ sake and it warmed him more than anything else ever could.

“Exactly like that,” Merlin agreed. “It’s supposed to be my birthday and everything.”

Arthur gently pushed Merlin back onto the bed they’d inhabited together some indeterminable amount of time ago, then pulled back the covers on the spare bed.

“What are you doing?” Merlin frowned as Arthur helped him pull his t-shirt back on.

“Merlin, you just had a fight with a Griffin,” Arthur paused, frowning in incredulity at his own statement. He shook his head slightly before continuing. “I really think you need space to stretch out properly.

“If you think I’m sleeping on my own after the conversation we just had then you’re even more ridiculous than I thought you were,” Merlin was the one shaking his head now. “Sod your ridiculous ingrained sense of nobility and get back in this bed.”

Arthur quirked an eyebrow and Merlin ran over his words again in his head.  _Bugger,_ that may not have been as suave as he thought.

“Are you ordering me about,  _Mer_ lin?”

“Yes, Your Royal Highness,” Merlin smirked slightly, “I believe I am.”

Arthur stuck out his tongue slightly, looking disgusted. “Please never call me that again and I promise I’ll stay in your bed as long as you like.”

Merlin grinned stupidly as Arthur turned off the light and carefully slid under the covers next to him, making sure to give Merlin and his bruises as much space as possible.

“As long as I like?” Merlin laughed.

“That’s what I said,” Arthur replied, squinting into the darkness. “And it wouldn’t be very  _noble_  for a prince to go back on his word.”

“Okay,” Merlin shifted to get comfortable, his fingers once more finding their way to Arthur’s. “I can probably stand you for a while.”

“A while?” Arthur whispered.

“Yes, Arthur. A while.”

“Aren’t you supposed to say something like ‘stay forever’?” Arthur chuckled.

“Again,  _Arthur_ , I’m not actually a girl!” Merlin laughed, hissing only slightly as his ribs protested at being practically wedged against the wall.

“Are you alright?” Arthur asked softly.

“Yes,” Merlin replied. “Now stop being a talkative prat and go to sleep.”

“Hmm,” Arthur grumbled, but he squeezed Merlin’s hand anyway.

* * *

Morgause fixed him with an icy glare. Merlin was tempted to tell her she needed to widen her variety of facial expressions, but held his tongue.

“So…” she trailed off and leaned towards him once more, her eyes roving over the folder that rested next to Merlin.

He tried not to gulp; he could tell she wanted him to ask about that photo, the one that shouldn’t exist. In the same way that these people in Ealdor who claim to have seen Arthur shouldn’t exist. His skin crawled slightly and he wished that Gwen would come bursting through the door with his phone saying that Morgana had called back. He hadn’t spoken to her months but  _God_  he needed her now.

“Merlin,” Morgause leaned back, “the Prince was out of the spotlight for most of the term.”

“Yes, he was,” Merlin replied. “He had a lot of cou rsework and class work, we all did.”

“You worked together did you?”

“Of course,” Merlin replied, careful to moderate his tone, because really he wanted to scream at her. “Writing essays is improved greatly by having other people around to distract you occasionally.”

 _Distract_ , Morgause mouthed silently as she nodded.

 _Fuck_ , Merlin thought,  _poor **poor**  word choice._

“It wasn’t until the Varsity Polo final against Mercia in May that Arthur resurfaced for the public,” Morgause stated. “Now  _that_ was a particularly interesting day for the Prince wasn’t it, Merlin?”

“It was important match, yes.”

“And obviously there was a lot of tension on both sides,” Morgause nodded.

“Of course,” Merlin shrugged. “It’s the Varsity match.”

“And Arthur faced the Duke of Orkney on the polo field.”

“Yes.”

“And then both of them were embroiled in an argument that resulted in the Mercia captain being accused of cheating?”

Merlin swallowed. She was right, except for the fact it wasn’t actually Mercia’s captain, not really, and it wasn’t  _cheating_  they were bothered about; it was the fact it was an attempt on Arthur’s life that they rather took umbrage at. “Yes,” he said eventually in as measured a tone as possible. “Arthur believed there were underhanded tactics being employed by some members of the opposing team, the Duke agreed even though the accusations were made against his team.”

“And where were you in all this?”

Merlin frowned. “In the stands like everybody else.”

“No, Merlin,” Morgause shook her head pityingly at him. “You weren’t like everybody else, because you were sitting with the Princess and His Majesty the King, weren’t you?”

Merlin resisted the urge to groan. He had decided to come back in here, so it was his fault if Morgause was asking difficult questions.

This was part of his penance, after all.


	28. Chapter 28

"Yes, I was invited to sit in the Royal Box." Merlin tapped his foot against the sofa.

"You must have had a good view of the action then?"

"Yes. You could say that."

* * *

"Sorry, I'm late. I was t- _mnmph-_ " Merlin's apology disintegrated as his breath was knocked out of him. His head connected with a picture frame and the flail of his arms nearly sent a table lamp crashing to the ground as Arthur pushed him against the wall in the entrance hall. He blinked a few times to clear his head. Lips and teeth clashing almost-painfully as Arthur pressed himself closer.

Merlin eventually managed to lift his arms and tangle his fingers in Arthur's hair as the Prince's hands roamed down Merlin's arms to settle on his hips. Arthur attacked Merlin's mouth with the purposeful finesse of a boy who knows he has a talent for it; four months of careful cataloguing of reactions had Arthur able to reduce Merlin to quivering mess in seconds. He ran his tongue slowly over Merlin's bottom lip, a final tease before pulling away with a grin.

"Hi." Arthur raised his right arm to curl it around the back of Merlin's neck, his fingers gently tea sing the hair at the base of his neck

Merlin, wide-eyed and breathless after the surprise attack took a moment to respond, his fingers frozen. "I wasn't quite expecting that."

Arthur smirked. "I have to keep you on your toes."

Merlin matched Arthur's grin as he dropped his hands to Arthur's wrists. "You really can't go outside looking like that though."

Keeping his body pressed against Merlin's, Arthur tilted his head to the left to inspect himself in the mirror; his hair was mussed and his lips were red and pouty, the collar of his polo shirt folded up on one side. He smiled rakishly, "I think you look good on me."

Merlin laughed loudly. "I suppose you've ruined my hair as well."

"Merlin," Arthur shook his head pityingly, " _nothing_  I could do would ever make a blind bit of difference to that mop you call hair."

"Hey!" Merlin pushed Arthur away from the mirror so he could see himself, and raised a hand to pat his hair down, his own lips a deep crimson. "I thought you would have been chomping at the bit to get to the field by now; I'm surprised you didn't leave without me."

"Merlin, I haven't seen you in a week," Arthur grumbled as he pressed his lips to the back of the other boy's neck, hands running up and down Merlin's arms once more. The delicate balance they were holding between longing and protocol was really starting to take its toll; snatched moments of intimacy like this weren't enough, and it was driving them both crazy.

"That's not my fault, Arthur," Merlin frowned, turning in Arthur's grip to face him again. "You accused me of distracting you when you were writing your essay, even though I  _know_  it's only because I caught you watching _Supernatural_  online-"

"It was valid research!" Arthur's eyes widened. "I thought I should do some studying into the idea of magic before my father came this weekend. Merlin, you  _know_  he wants me to start taking on more of a role with the Advisory Council, and I thought I might learn something useful."

Merlin tried to ignore the shiver of fear that ran through his body at the mention of Uther's Advisory Council; a group of people handpicked for their knowledge of magic, and how to eradicate it, and here Arthur was trying to make a joke out of it. Merlin forgave him because he knew how shaken up Arthur had been (still was) about magic, and in particular the circumstances surrounding his mother's death, so he plastered a grin onto his face instead. "That's the worst excuse I've ever heard."

"Anyway you  _were_ distracting me," Arthur muttered, tracing patterns on the delicate skin on the inside of Merlin's wrists. Merlin stifled the small whimper threatening to slip from his lips at the light, teasing touch.

"Hmm," Merlin shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Well, you could have come over when you weren't writing your essay, but then you decided to spend the rest of your life with your horses."

" _Ponies_ , Merlin," Arthur corrected in exasperation. "How many times? Polo  _ponies_."

"Yeah," Merlin shrugged as he rolled his eyes, "because that makes it sound like a manly sport."

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur shook his head. "It's the sport of  _kings_."

"It's the sport of  _prats_ ," Merlin retorted and Arthur cuffed him lightly on the back of the head.

Arthur sighed slightly. "I suppose we should leave.Battle time." He sat down on the bottom step of the staircase, pulling on his leather boots and straightening the collar of his shirt to return it to the pristine state it had been in before Merlin's arrival. The blood red of the material made something in Merlin's stomach clench every time he saw it, and today was no different.

"Is your father going to have me killed for wearing this in his presence?" Merlin pointed at his striped t-shirt and jeans. "Morgana said I didn't have to wear a suit, but s-"

" _Mer_ lin," Arthur rolled his eyes, "the first time you met my father you were wearing a backless hospital gown and dosed up on morphine. Really, this is an improvement. Although, the offer of my spare team shirt still stands." He waggled his eyebrows in a parody of seduction (at least, Merlin  _hoped_  it was a parody).

"Then he'd  _definitely_  kill me," Merlin grinned. A couple of months earlier, when Albion had been caught in the final cold snap before spring, Merlin had taken to wearing random items of Arthur's clothing over his own layers whenever it got a bit nippy in the townhouse on Caruther's Terrace. Merlin was convinced Arthur didn't feel the cold the way normal people did – something to do with blue blood probably – and the house was never quite as warm as he'd like it.

Arthur was fiddling with the thumb ring he'd been wearing since he'd returned from the Easter holidays; apparentl y Uther had given it to him accompanied by a long speech that detailed each owner of the ring before him (Merlin had fallen asleep when Arthur had tried to relay said details). He pulled it off and offered it out to Merlin, flat in his palm. "Here."

Merlin looked at the ring. "What?"

"I want you to look after it for me," Arthur shrugged, and Merlin would have sworn that there was a tinge of pink on the Prince's cheeks that hadn't been there before. "I can't wear it playing."

"But-" Merlin said stupidly, completely failing at trying to avoid sounding like an incoherent fourteen year old at the sight of a ring being thrust towards him by his boyfriend.

Arthur seemed to sense where Merlin's mind had just detoured to and his eyes widened. "I just want you to look after it for the match. Christ,  _Mer_ lin, don't have a meltdown."

"Can't you just leave it here like you normally do?"

"Merlin," Arthur drew out his name with a long-suffering sigh. "I am  _trying_  to be a bit romantic here."

"A  _bit romantic_?" Merlin grinned. Arthur, for all his numerous prattish moments, was trying so hard to be  _normal_  when it came to certain aspects of their relationship it made his heart sing.

Arthur looked slightly murderous, until Merlin took the opportunity to steal a kiss, pulling the scowl from his lips. Arthur may have been a master tactician, but Merlin had his devices too.

"Just look after it for me, will you?" The smile on Arthur's face was practically non-existent but Merlin could see it as clearly as if Arthur was beaming toothily at him; it was the same smile he shot at Merlin whenever they were in public and couldn't risk drawing attention.

Merlin picked up the ring, the metal warmed by the heat of Arthur's skin, twirling it between his fingers. He eventually gave Arthur a soft smile, pocketing the ring in his jeans.

"You better not lose it," Arthur warned , clearly wanting to reset the status quo of the moment, which had been veering dangerously towards the tenderness they both tried to shy away from – at least when it was daylight, and there were other people (aka  _Leon_ ) only a wall away.

"I won't," Merlin shook his head. "I promise."

"Good," Arthur nodded, drawing himself out of the slouch he was wont to fall into when not in public. "Let's go. I wouldn't want to keep Mercia waiting; delaying their inevitable loss is cruel."

" _Arthur,_ " Merlin rolled his eyes, Arthur's inherent streak of arrogance making an appearance. "Remember what they say about pride."

Arthur smirked. "Merlin, Albion has beaten Mercia at every polo match for the past fifty years."

"That's what the rugby team thought," Merlin said pointedly.

"Are you doubting me, Merlin?" Arthur crossed his arms.

"Never, sire," Merlin smirked.

"What have I told you about not calling me that?"

"I'm pr actising," Merlin shrugged, "considering you're forcing me to spend the next few hours with the King; a man who has no idea that little old commoner me is in an illicit relationship with the heir to the throne. Can't be all casual and  _Arthur this_ and  _Arthur that_ , can I?"

Arthur studied Merlin's expression carefully, and  _okay_ , Merlin admitted silently, there might have been a slightly bitter edge to his words, but he hadn't really meant them. Not really, _really_  meant the underlying meaning. He just wasn't particularly looking forward to spending time with Uther; not even the promise of Morgana's presence could make him look forward to that.

"Arthur, I'm opening the door now so…" Leon called from the kitchen.

"Fine," Arthur called back, holding Merlin's gaze as the door opened and a cheerful Leon appeared, a red UA scarf adding a shock of colour to his usual black ensemble.

"Merlin." Leon grinned at the boy. " We haven't seen you in  _days_."

"Yes, we know," Arthur grumbled again. "Let's go. Can't keep my father waiting." He picked up his gloves, helmet and mallet and opened the door.

Leon gave Merlin an unreadable look. "Merlin?"

Merlin didn't say anything, just followed Arthur out to the car as Leon busied himself with locking up.  _Well done, Merlin_ , he chastised himself.  _Brilliant_. He knew Arthur had been getting steadily more restless about the fact their relationship was a secret,  _as had Merlin_ , but they both knew there was nothing they could do about that just yet.

"Okay, that was a stupid thing to say," Merlin said as soon as he got into the back of the car with a quick nod to Owain. Arthur was pretending not to glower at his gloves.

"Hmm," Arthur replied.

"Seriously, you're going back to  _hmm_ ing at me again?" Merlin rolled his eyes, but reached his hand out to take hold of Arthur's. He was gra tified to note that Arthur didn't pull away. "Sorry, it was a pretty prattish thing of me to say. I didn't mean to bring… _it_  up."

"Prattish?" Arthur arched an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Merlin nodded, a small smile lighting the corner of his lips. "Prattish. It's an adjective I usually reserve just for you."

"Glad to hear I'm special enough for my own adjective," Arthur scowled, but Merlin could see the slight sparkle in his eyes that meant he was actually amused, even if was going to try his best not to admit it.

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin was not expecting the sight that greeted him when Owain led him into what was considered, for the day at least, to be the Royal Box at UA's historic polo ground. Morgana was there, as anticipated, but she wasn't alone; she was sitting next to Elena, a strange mix of surprise and wariness on the Princess' face.

Merlin stood there stupidly for a long moment. Arthur hadn't mentioned Elena was coming, and from the look on Morgana was giving her friend,  _she_ hadn't expected this either.

"Merlin!" Elena exclaimed happily as she noticed his arrival, throwing her arms around his neck as soon as she was in reaching distance. "Morgana told me you were coming. I haven't seen you in  _months_!"

"Elena," Merlin was pleased to see her, he really was, but he already had a good idea of what this was about. "I didn't know you'd be here."

"Neither did I," Elena laughed delightedly. "It was very surprising when Uth-, no wait,  _His Majesty_ , offered an invitation. I wanted to come last year, but it's a bit awkward considering…"she gestured at the Mercia scarf she had around her neck even though the sun was splitting the stones. "Oh and….The Other Thing, obviously."

Merlin knew exactly what she meant -  _The Other Thing_ ; worthy of capitalisation and clearly code for that whole potential marriage to Arthur business.

"Merlin," Morgana smiled warmly at him as she too embraced him, bestowing her usual kiss on his cheek. "I think…"

"Yeah," Merlin whispered back.

"Come and sit down," Elena grabbed Merlin's hand and pulled him to the front bench in the box, pushing him down so that she and Morgana could sit either side of him. "Ooh, let me get you a drink. Hang on."

"Morgana, did you know Elena was coming? Because I really don't think Arthur does," Merlin whispered quickly as Elena left them.

"No," Morgana shook her head. "She sent me a message saying 'see you at the match', so I thought she was coming with Mercia friends. Uther didn't mention it when we left London this morning."

"This is an ambush isn't it?" Merlin rubbed his forehead, careful to keep his voice low. He could see the eyes of the spectators roving around the stands, thousands of eyes focusing on the royal box to catch a glimpse of the Princess, and waiting for the arrival of the King.

"I think it might be." Morgana pulled her phone out of her handbag. "I'm going to text Arthur and warn him."

"Is lemonade alright?" Elena reappeared with a glass for Merlin. "Apparently there's supposed to be Pimm's to go with it, but I couldn't find any. But I've put some fruit and a bit of mint in it so you can pretend."

Merlin couldn't help the smile that blossomed on his face at Elena's earnest expression. "Thank you."

Elena clearly noticed Morgana's determined frown and astonishingly quick texting, because she leaned in closer to Merlin and whis pered, "I get the feeling I wasn't as expected as I thought."

Merlin gave her a small smile in response, unable to say anything before the Chancellor of UA walked out onto the field, holding a remote microphone.

"Ladies and Gentleman," he intoned in a booming voice, "honoured guests, students of Albion, parents, families and friends, welcome to the eighty-seventh annual Varsity Polo match. As is customary at this historic event I ask you all to stand for the national anthem for the arrival of His Majesty, the King."

The orchestral arrangement of the Anthem began to filter out of the speakers around the field as every spectator, occupants of the Royal Box included, rose to their feet and sang in unison under the glorious May sky. As the first verse segued into the lesser-known second, Uther entered the Box and took his seat, leaving a row free behind the three young guests at the front. Merlin turned slightly and Uther awarded him a pompous smile.

The Anthem drew to a close and the crowd remained on their feet as the Chancellor invited the players from Albion and Mercia onto the field. Merlin's stomach fluttered as Arthur, head held high, the white number three on his shirt marking him out as tactical leader, led the other three members of his team onto the field, each resplendent in the deep red Merlin had always associated with Arthur, followed by the Mercians in contrasting sky blue. Merlin studied the opponents carefully, his eyes lingering on the opposing number three player.

"Bugger, is that  _Gwaine_?" Merlin hissed, grabbing Morgana's arm and pointing uselessly.

"Yes," Elena replied when Morgana's eyes widened as she followed Merlin's point. "He left the team last year, but when he expressed an interest to come back for Varsity they welcomed him with open arms."

Morgana looked at Merlin.  _Fuck, fuck, fuck,_ clear in her eyes. Merlin embraced the sentiment entirely. Arthur and Gwai ne hadn't encountered each other since January; and, aside from a few texts, Merlin hadn't heard from the Duke of Orkney much either.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Morgana pinched the bridge of her nose as Arthur's back stiffened. "They're going to posture about like two great big bloody peacocks, aren't they?"

Merlin dropped his head into his hands. " _Bloody hell…"_

 

**ooOOoo**

_Bloody hell_  about summed up the first part of the game ( _chukka, Merlin,_ he could hear Arthur in his head, _it's called a chukka_ ). Merlin was initially torn between being amazed at the speed Arthur galloped around the field, and worrying every single time Gwaine and Arthur came within spitting distance of each other – they had  _mallets_  for God's sake. But after the first few minutes of wincing (Merlin) and covert swearing (Morgana) it wasn't the proximity of Arthur and Gwaine that was causing Merlin concern.

He didn't notice the tingling at first, so focused on trying to keep up with the fast pace of the game, but then the tingling became a buzzing he couldn't ignore.

"What?" Morgana whispered as she saw his eyes begin to dart around the stands, no longer focussed on the game.

"I don't know," he mumbled in reply. "But something's not right."

"Is it… _you know?_ " Morgana smiled as if they were sharing a joke; always aware that anyone could be watching them.

Merlin beamed and tried to whisper out of the corner of his mouth; he had a feeling he wasn't quite as good as Morgana at being covert though. "Yes, I think it might be."

"Can you see anything?"

"I'm looking," Merlin forced out in a sing-song voice. He watched carefully as the chukka ended and each player switched horses (Merlin had been horrified to note that each player had to own  _two_ horses –  _ponies!_ – in order to be on the team.)

"What are you two whispering about?" Elena grinned. "Or can you not tell me because I'm the enemy?"

Merlin and Morgana's high-pitched laughs weren't remotely convincing even as the crowd cheering the start of the next phase of the game drowned them out.

"Okay," Elena sighed, "I know it's awkward that I'm here, because of-" she cut herself to check that Uther couldn't hear her. Seeing he was still focused on the match she continued, "I don't want to cause trouble, but I miss you all and I've been stuck with a bunch of idiots at Mercia for months with no respite. I just really needed to get away for a while."

"No, Elena," Morgana said soothingly, reaching out a hand to briefly grasp the other girl's, "it's not that at all. We were just joking about how upset Gwaine's going to be when he takes of the helmet and sees what it's done to his hair."

Merlin nodded as enthusiastically as is possible for someone who isn't remotely enthusiastic about anything except searching for a potential assassin. After the disappearance of the Griffin in Ealdor he had been on edge for weeks, as had Leon – Arthur's default emotion when it came to thinking about that night in Ealdor seemed to be mild irritation now that he had other things to occupy his mind – as Merlin and the Prince's bodyguard were sure that the Griffin and the assassination attempt in Meribel were linked. Why else would a magical creature appear and then wink out of existence? Gaius had assured Merlin that a Griffin would not disappear on death – it would have to be spirited away by someone who possessed powerful magic.

Elena looked ready to argue, but at that moment a roar of disbelief went up from the crowd. Turning his attention back to the match, Merlin was horrified to see the number two man on the UA team, a hefty third-year student named Geraint, listing awkwardly on his horse, clutching his left arm.

"What happened?" Merlin asked.

"I don't know," Elena shook her head. "But Arthur doesn't look happy."

Arthur indeed did  _not_  look happy. He was helping Geraint off his mount, his two other teammates assisting. Merlin was pleased to see that Gwaine had also dismounted and was making his way over to the Albion team. Arthur moved to speak to the Umpire who shook his head. No foul or penalty was called and it looked like Geraint was waving the attention away. The Umpire spoke quietly to the injured player for a few minutes, eventually nodding and restarting the game.

Even from a distance Merlin could see that the look on Arthur's face was positively murderous; his glare seemed to be directed at the captain of the other team; the opposing number two player who was, according to what Arthur had told Merlin anyway, a 'horrible little thug named Frederic Ebor.' Ebor twirled his mallet through the air, seemingly thrilled that he'd caught the ire of Prince Arthur.

Merlin and Morgana cheered loudly as Arthur retrieved the ball. Elena whooped, before seemingly realising who she was supposed to be supporting and guiltily touched her scarf.

Ebor urged his horse forward; his incentive clear – he was heading directly for Arthur. He reached out his mallet, managing to hook the head around Arthur's, pulling back viciously so that Arthur lost concentration long enough to lose his dominance over the ball and Ebor swooped by to re trieve it for Mercia.

"He's allowed to do that, isn't he?" Merlin checked with Morgana.

"Unfortunately, yes," Morgana replied. "As long as he doesn't hit Arthur or the horse."

It was clear when Arthur tensed as he saw the chance of a goal slipping away; his knees locked tighter around the saddle and he hunched his shoulders slightly as he chased after Ebor. Seeing that Geraint was not riding as fast as he had earlier, and with less attention, it was up to Arthur to do as much as he could to stop Ebor reaching the final Albion player, Kay, who acted as their defence.

Arthur was practically flying, the horse ( _pony!)_ was galloping so quickly, but somehow he wasn't quick enough to stop Ebor from gaining the advantage for Mercia. Merlin frowned; there was absolutely no way that Ebor should have been able to keep such a distance between him and Arthur. Unless…

From the way Arthur waved his arms Merlin could tell he was yelling in frustrati on. Uther made a noise of disapproval behind him, but Merlin didn't turn round to check whether said disapproval was for Mercia's score, or for his son's behaviour. Instead he grabbed Morgana's arm. "I think it's Ebor, the Mercia captain. Surely he wouldn't risk doing… _stuff_  in front of so many people just to win a match?"

"No," Morgana shook her head slowly. "What can we do?"

"I don't know," Merlin sighed. "I think I need to get closer to see what's going on."

"Well," Morgana looked at the large clock displaying the relevant times, "you've got about thirty seconds until they break. Everyone heads down onto the field to push the divots back into the ground; there should be enough people around that you can get closer to the players. Uther will stay up here so he won't see anything. You'll only have ten minutes though." She let out another laugh. "Oh, Merlin, you're so funny!"

He forced a laugh out and she shot him a grateful look. It disapp eared, however, when he saw how close Ebor and Arthur were again. It looked as though the Mercian was about to try and knock the Albion captain from his mount (even  _Merlin_  knew this wasn't allowed), but at the last minute he pulled back. Merlin frowned, taken aback by Ebor's sudden retreat.

What occurred next happened so slowly and clearly that Merlin thought he'd inadvertently slowed down time again, just as he'd done in Meribel all those months earlier. Arthur's horse, Hengroen, reared up even though there was nothing that  _visibly_  spooked her – Merlin felt the rush of magic though and knew Hengroen had too. Arthur, wobbled precariously, clearly taken aback by Hengroen's skittish behaviour and Merlin felt sick as he watched Arthur begin to topple backwards.  _No_ , he could prevent this. " _Gestillan_ ," he hissed, trying to cover the golden flare of his eyes as much as possible.

Merlin sagged in relief when Hengroen settled, A rthur still seated atop the saddle. Morgana was clutching his arm, her fingers digging into his bare skin painfully. Ebor was glaring at Arthur and Merlin held his breath – just in case.

The moment, however, passed as the end of the chukka was declared and the spectators were invited down onto the field for the ten minutes of half-time.

Uther was involved in a conversation with the Chancellor of Mercia and Morgana nudged Merlin to take this as an opportunity to escape. He didn't need telling twice; he hurried past a confused Elena with a mumbled apology and raced down the stairs onto the field. He noticed Owain was following him at distance and turned to look at the bodyguard; Owain tried to adopt a casual pose of indifference. Merlin shook his head and darted through the crowd.  _Really Arthur?_  he grumbled to himself.  _You don't think I've noticed you've had Owain lolloping after me as covertly as possible for the past two months._

Merli n tried very hard to ignore the fact he was in yet another bizarre situation; students and members of the social elite alike surrounded him, all happily stomping clumps of turf back into the field. He shook his head with a slight look skywards; he was going to have to mock Arthur about this again later.  _Later_ , he told himself.  _Later, when there isn't the immediate threat of magical injury/death/other unspeakable outcome._ _ **Again.**_

He smiled casually at Leon as he approached the fenced off area hidden from the stands where he had seen the eight players retreating a minute earlier.

"Merlin?" Leon arched an eyebrow. "You can't go back there. It'll be over in half an hour. You can  _see_  Arthur then."

"Leon," Merlin hissed, slightly affronted, "I'm not trying to sneak past you so I can slam Arthur up against a wall." Leon's eyes widened and Merlin could tell he was trying to avoid blushing. For all his improve ments in giving Merlin and Arthur some privacy, sometimes Leon just read everything wrong.

"Then what are you doing?"

"Arthur told me he'd owned Hengroen for five years," Merlin spoke hurriedly as he really didn't have time for this. "He said that she's considered to be one of the best in the country; she never spooks, she always obeys, and Arthur has never  _ever_  had a problem with her. So why did she try and throw him off just now?"

"It was a fluke, Merlin," Leon was looking at him fondly now, as though he thought Merlin was sweet for worrying. "Arthur's fine. Annoyed, but fine. Don't worry about it."

Merlin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Leon, I think Ebor is using magic."

Leon's face immediately darkened. "What?"

"I saw a flash of something just before Geraint was injured." A necessary lie. "Then another one just before Hengroen bucked." Again, he hadn't seen  _anything_ , but he couldn't just tell Leon he h ad a funny feeling.

"The sun reflecting-"

"No. Morgana saw it too." Merlin didn't think Morgana would mind being called on as fake witness here.

"I'll go and see if there's anything suspicious," Leon replied. "You need to go back to the Box."

"No chance," Merlin replied, crossing his arms in a perfect imitation of his boyfriend. "It would be better if we both looked."

"Merlin, I'm not sure Arthur will want a distraction down here right now."

"Leon," Merlin barked slightly. "I'm not here to be a distraction. I actually need to make sure Arthur knows Elena is here. That can be my excuse."

"He saw her," Leon replied with a wince.

"Yes, but I don't know that, do I?" Merlin looked at him meaningfully. "Leon, we don't have time for this."

Leon waved a hand for Merlin to lead the way.

Gwaine saw them first. "Merlin!" He bounded over, a grin on his face. He pulled Merlin into a slightly sweaty hug, clapping him on the back as he did so. His hair was in complete disarray and yet, annoyingly, his roguish smile alone suggested he could still walk straight into a GQ cover shoot.

"Hi, Gwaine," Merlin replied as politely as he could, which was difficult when trying to halt the death of the future King. "Do you know where Arthur is?"

Gwaine's expression softened, a slight quirk of his lips suggesting he'd read Merlin like an open book. Merlin was sure, however, that Gwaine hadn't actually seen what was written and made up a story in his head. "Right," he nodded with a smile. "Yeah, he's just gone inside with Geraint."

"Thanks," Merlin nodded. He actually would like to have a proper chat with Gwaine; he'd missed him and his ridiculous leers, but now wasn't the time. He hurried over to the clubhouse and was pleased when he heard Gwaine accost Leon with a request for  _a word_.

The clubhouse, thankfully, was tiny so searching for Ebor wouldn't take too long at all. Merlin was worried about bumping into Arthur before he'd had time to discover Ebor, but for once (well, probably more than once when Arthur was involved) luck was on his side and Merlin caught sight of the Mercian captain disappearing up a narrow staircase. Arthur's voice filtered out from a room to the left and Merlin swept past as quickly as possible, ducked under the chain stating  **Members Only** and padded up the stairs, thankful he'd worn rubber-soled shoes.

Merlin stilled as he reached the top. Ebor was talking in a low voice from behind the door of a nearby room…which was particularly interesting due to the fact Merlin could see Ebor lying motionless in another room in front of him. His face scrunched into a frown. There were  _two_  Ebors?

 _No_ , Merlin corrected his original theory.  _There was_ _ **one**_ _Ebor and there was someone who_ _ **looked like**_ _Ebor._ Me rlin sighed in frustration: Why were the people who wanted to harm Arthur always so interested in grandstanding first? On some level he supposed he should thank them – their need to show how clever they are giving him the time to try and neutralise the threat.

Merlin carefully tiptoed towards the unconscious Ebor; the one he suspected was the real student. Some tension left his shoulders as he realised the boy was breathing, but he had a huge bruise on the side of his face, leading up to what would definitely be considered a duck egg above his ear.

The sound of movement nearby caused Merlin to scuttle backwards in the room, pressing his body flush against the wall by the open door. He peered through the crack between door and frame to see the other Ebor on the landing, polo mallet in hand. Merlin covered his mouth to still a gasp of horror as a thin blade emerged from the handle of the mallet; so thin Merlin only saw it due to a fortuitous ray of light hitting the metal. Ebor ran his hand over the handle and the blade retracted with a short snap.

"Gentlemen, time!" A man's voice called from downstairs.

Merlin's eyes widened as he watched 'Ebor' sprint downstairs. He ducked out of the room, an apologetic glance to the real Ebor and hurried down the rickety steps. Unfortunately he barrelled into Arthur for the second time in their acquaintance and, as in Meribel, they ended up on the floor in a sprawl of tangled limbs.

" _Mer_ lin!" Arthur practically screeched, his cheeks pink with immediate annoyance. Merlin would have laughed if he wasn't so worried about him.

"Arthur, Ebor is-"

" _Cheating_?" Arthur hauled Merlin to his feet. "Yes, I already know about that,  _thank you_. It's obvious to anyone who has eyes."

Merlin reared back slightly at Arthur's annoyance, then realised now was  _not_  to be sensitive about Arthur's penchant to be condescending when things weren't g oing his way. He grabbed the front of Arthur's shirt roughly. "Arthur you need to listen to me, it's not-"

"Enough." Arthur's voice was low and steady. "I already know that Ebor is employing underhanded tactics, okay? I've got a plan. Please  _don't_  make today any more difficult than it already is, hmm?"

"Albion, you will forfeit the match if you do not return to the field," the Umpire announced haughtily.

Arthur wrenched himself out of Merlin's grasp and ran outside. He hoisted himself up onto his other horse, Llamrei before Merlin could form the words of a suitable response that wasn't just a string of swearing and insults.

"Well?" Leon grabbed Merlin's arm as they met outside.

Merlin nodded, desperation evident on his face. " _That_ ," he pointed to 'Ebor', "is not Ebor. He  _looks_ like him, but the real one is unconscious upstairs. He's got a blade hidden in his mallet. Can we stop the match?  _Without_ announc ing it's because of magic?"

Leon nodded quickly. "We must." He ran over to where one of the Umpires was standing at the side of the field. The Umpire seemed to disagree with whatever Leon said to him as he waved his arms around in an annoyed manner.

Merlin looked up and saw 'Ebor' looking directly at him, his eyes then flickering to Leon and the Umpire. He shivered at the cold look, malice evident even at distance.

Arthur had the ball; he had taken advantage of Ebor's distraction to begin racing towards the goal at the far end of the field. Ebor turned his horse quickly and began racing towards Arthur.

 _Oh, God,_ Merlin thought as he watched Leon running on to the pitch, arms waving frantically. Sounds of confusion were going up in the stands as every player but Ebor and Arthur stopped galloping; both engrossed in fulfilling their very different objectives.

Merlin saw the moment when Arthur realised that something was wrong. He slowed Ll amrei to a halt, looking round in confusion at the paused game. Ebor wasn't stopping though; he was hurtling towards Arthur at breakneck speed. Arthur pulled on Llamrei's reigns but she seemed frozen to the spot.

"Fuck!" Merlin yelled as he ran towards the edge of the field.  _Fuck everything_ ; if Merlin didn't do something then Arthur was about to die. He raised a hand and begged his soul to give him the best words.

Merlin's mouth clamped closed before he could utter a syllable. Gwaine was edging closer to Ebor, swinging his mallet over his head like an upper-class cowboy, a determined look on his face as the Mercian captain raised his own mallet to prepare to strike a bewildered Arthur.

 _Thwack_! The sound of the impact echoed around the stands as the mallet connected and a still body crashed to the pitch.

Merlin ran blindly up the field, faster than he'd ever run before, not caring who saw him, or who surmised what from his actions; t here were enough people hurrying in the same direction now that he was going to become lost in the crowd.

'Ebor' lay still, his mount having thrown him when Gwaine had struck his blow. The Duke of Orkney was trying his best not to look too smug as he rested the mallet on his shoulder;  _cavalier bastard_ , Merlin wanted to yell at him, but with a huge smile on his face and no heat behind the words.

But the words died in his throat when Arthur's eyes focused on him in the crowd. People were clamouring around the Prince, but he was ignoring every single question and comment in favour of staring at Merlin. Arthur ducked his head slightly before reconnecting their gazes; his meaning was clear.

_I'm sorry._

 

**ooOOoo**

Arthur and Gwaine were in the UA Chancellor's office for nearly three hours after the match was abandoned, explaining their (fictional) side of the story. Uther was there too to add some political weight to the proceedings (i.e. to ensure he got his way). Merlin, Morgana and Elena had posted sentry outside the office to wait for the two young men.

Uther's men had ensured that 'Ebor' was swiftly taken from Albion, in a similar way to Valiant Kåårme's removal in France. The  _real_  Ebor was going to take the hit for cheating, but there was never going to be any official version of the story that referenced magic, two Ebor's, or an attempt on Prince Arthur's life. Ebor the Genuine would get a slap on the wrist and a ban for the rest of the season; he was told that the 'accidental' mallet to the head from Gwaine was what was causing his memory loss of the whole match. Merlin suspected a number of deals had been brokered with medical professionals in o rder for them to corroborate this story. What would happen to the other Ebor, Merlin didn't know, but he suspected the Advisory Council would have something to do with it.

Instead of attending the feted dinner that followed the Varsity polo Arthur managed to wrangle his way out of it to be able to head back to Caruther's Terrace instead; Uther hadn't actually thought an attempt on Arthur's life was a particularly good reason to neglect his Princely duties, but when Arthur had announced he was taking his friends, including  _Elena_ , back to the house Uther had relented. Merlin had been thrilled when Gwen and Lance had been invited too.

But dinner at Caruther's was much more awkward than any posh dinner at the university ever could have been. Stilted conversation and tense silences became common, even though it should have been the perfect opportunity to relax and have some fun.

There were five irritatingly problematic reasons for this awkwardness:

 **1.** Everyone at the table knew about magic except for Elena.  
 **2.** Only Merlin, Arthur and Gwaine knew what had really happened at the match.  
 **3.** Gwaine and Elena didn't know that Merlin and Arthur were now  _Merlin &Arthur._  
 **4.** Uther had cornered Merlin for a quick conversation after the interrogation of Gwaine and Arthur.  
 **5.** Arthur had overheard said conversation.

Merlin hadn't expected Uther to speak to him in the mêlée that followed the match, but then  _someone_ (and Merlin highly suspected it was Leon) had explained that Merlin had once again been integral in saving the Prince's life. Merlin had balked at this - Gwaine could take all the glory he wanted – but Uther had been insistent on having a word with him in private. The chancellor had looked annoyed at being shooed out of his office  _again_ , but as the King was the one doi ng the shooing he couldn't exactly object.

"Merlin," Uther had said, and then proceeded to stare at the boy for a long time in silence.

Merlin had forced himself to remain still; shuffling would not be a good idea. Nor would running his hands through his hair, playing with the hem of his t-shirt or physically backing away from Uther's imposing presence.

"Merlin," Uther pursed his lips slightly, "you show the Prince the most extraordinary loyalty."

Merlin ducked his head slightly, feeling like Uther could see straight through him to the truth; he hoped that wasn't the case. "I feel it's my job as his…friend, Your Majesty." Merlin suddenly worried that using the term 'friend' would not be appropriate. Surely Uther must know how much time Merlin had been spending with Arthur.

"But this…"Uther trailed off, gesturing out of the window in the direction of the Polo Club, "this is beyond the line of duty."

"Well, you could say that there is a bond between us, Sir."  _Fuck_. Merlin wanted to stuff his fist into his mouth and then potentially hurl himself from the window.  _Why_  had he thought saying that would be a good idea?

Uther studied him carefully for a long moment before nodding. "I'm glad. Look after him."

Merlin's knees almost gave out between him. What was that supposed to mean? Uther couldn't know. He  _couldn't_  know.  ** _COULDN'T_** _know._

The fact that he  _didn't_  know was confirmed when Uther continued to speak.

"Merlin, I'm sure you're aware that Arthur only has eighteenth months before he takes on his official duties as the Prince of Wales."

Merlin nodded silently.

"I believe that Arthur listens to you, respects your judgment."

_Do_ _**not**  _ _snort at the King, Merlin._

"I believe," Uther continued, "that Arthur needs you counsel about a very important matter."

Merlin didn't speak. This was like the 'spy' conversation all over again. Uther hadn't questioned him about that; clearly taking Merlin's silence to mean that nothing was going on in Arthur's personal life that he should be aware of.

"It is imperative that Arthur eventually marries well."

_Oh, hello, heart-clenching! I hadn't felt you in a couple of hours._

"I am not suggesting that Arthur marries before he graduates from his studies," Uther was pacing slightly, "in fact I believe it would be imprudent of him to do so. However, Arthur needs to take the first step in his relationship with Lady Elena in order to have strengthened their working relationship by the time the Prince's duties come into effect. He will need a close ally in the war against magic when that time comes."

Merlin couldn't reply. Not because he had nothing to say, because he had a  _lot_  to say, believe him. But none of it was really appropriate for Uther's ears.

"I ask that you help him to make the decision to make the first step sooner rather than later, Merlin." Uther tilted his head and  _almost_  looked self-effacing for a moment. "I fear he will only rebel against me if I ask the same of him. Convince him of the positive aspects of the match, Merlin, for which there are many."

Silence reigned in the room, but Uther didn't seem to be expecting an answer this time either.

"Thank you, Merlin. Remember, I wish to hear anything of note about Arthur's dalliances or unsuitable behaviour. You may go."

Merlin ducked his head quickly and walked in as measured as way as possible from the room. Then froze…

Arthur was looking at him, arms folded as he leaned against the ancient oak panelling in the Chancellor's corridor (oak-panelling that nobody else was allowed to so much as  _touch…_ ). "Good chat with my father?"

"Not really," Merlin snapped. "Don't try to insinuate anything, Arthur."

"I wasn't going to," Arthur replied, equally sullen.

"Fine."

"Fine"

And it wasn't fine. And now they were trapped in Arthur's front reception room with five other people drinking after-dinner coffee and trying to forget that someone had tried to kill Arthur with magic again.

"Arthur," Merlin called eventually. "Do you have any biscuits?"

Arthur frowned, biting back the response of  _Yeah, you added about eight packets to that online Waitrose shop without me realising until it arrived_  that Merlin knew had been on the tip of his tongue. "Probably."

"Good." Merlin nodded, climbing to his feet. "Can you help me find some then?"

Arthur heaved a sigh as he pushed himself out of the armchair he'd ensconced himself in half an hour earlier. Merlin had actually thought he'd put up more of a fight.

Everyone else in the room continued with their conversations as the two boys headed for the kitchen, for which Merlin was incredibly thankful.

"Okay," Merlin said, closing the door firmly behind him. "How long are you intending to be pissed off with me for what your father said?"

Arthur pursed his lips but remained silent.

"I only ask, Arthur," Merlin continued, "because we've got exams starting in two weeks and either we sort this out now, or that's it for the next month. We've both go t too much revision and too many essays to write without  _this_  as well."

Arthur looked taken aback. "You think we should avoid each other for a month?"

"Well we've managed quite well recently," Merlin shrugged. He wasn't really annoyed, more exasperated. "We didn't see each other for the three weeks over Easter and you've been pretty busy recently."

"Merlin I-" Arthur leaned against the counter opposite Merlin. "My father shouldn't be asking you to look after me. He shouldn't be asking anything of you. If you want to-"

"Hang on!" Merlin held up a hand, understanding dawning. "You're not suddenly under the impression that I only hang around because your father asked me to, are you?"

Arthur mumbled incoherently and looked at the floor.

"For fuck's sake," Merlin laughed. "You complete… _clotpole_." He ran his tongue over his lip, something familiar about that word.

"Clot what?" Arthur was frowning at him in slight alar m.

"Clot _pole_ ," Merlin replied as if Arthur was a small child. "It seems appropriate for you."

"I thought I was'prattish'?"

"That's your adjective," Merlin grinned, shaking his head. "This is your noun."

"You're ridiculous," Arthur deadpanned, but Merlin could see a hint of a smile.

"I'm ridiculous?" Merlin brought a hand to his chest. "You're the one who's been acted…emotionally stunted all day."

Arthur looked horrified. "Are you just going to keep insulting me?"

'Do you have a better idea?"

Arthur took one step forward and pressed Merlin into the wall behind him. His mouth, warm and inviting went straight for Merlin's neck. Nipping lightly at the soft skin visible above the neckline of his t-shirt.

"What is with you and pushing me against walls?" Merlin gasped out a laugh as Arthur found a particularly sensitive patch of skin.

" _Jesus,_  you two, how long does i-"

Merlin and Arthur were too stunned to break apart properly. They both just turned their heads to see Gwaine in the doorway, his mouth open comically mid-shout. Something beyond awkward silence had descended on the kitchen.

"Well, that's…new," Gwaine coughed out eventually.

Arthur started to shake with silent laughter, dropping his head to Merlin's shoulder.

"Gwaine, could you just…?" Merlin asked politely, a grin on his face as he gestured at the door.

"Absolutely," Gwaine saluted with a chuckle as he closed the door.

"Where were we?" Arthur mumbled into Merlin's t-shirt.

"I believe you were shutting me up," Merlin's grin grew wider. "You ridiculous, ridiculous being."

"And yet…" Arthur looked up hopefully.

"And yet I still love you," Merlin's smile softened as Arthur beamed.

Arthur ran his hands across Merlin's stomach, finger's drifting over the pockets of his jeans. "Oh," Arthur said, extracting his ring from Merlin's pocket. "I forgot you still had it."

Yes," Merlin replied rolling his eyes, "well I didn't. I was obsessively checking I hadn't lost it all day."

Arthur rolled the metal through his fingers for a few seconds before sliding the ring over Merlin's right thumb. Merlin looked up questioningly as Arthur gently brushed his fingertips over the band. "I want you to keep looking after it for me."

Merlin exhaled loudly. "Why?"

"It's a…"Arthur scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, looking wonderfully flustered. "Well, I like you having it. It feels like I can give you something, even though I can't give you everything."

This was far too tender a moment for the day they'd had, for the fact that their friends were only scant metres away, but Merlin wouldn't care if the whole of Albion turned up right now. Arthur was being  _honest_ and Merlin lived for these moments.

"I'm twenty-one," Arthur shrugged. "I know my parents got married when they were you ng, but, I'm not ready to even think about that yet. But I can promise you two things, Merlin, and I want you to remember them even when my father inevitably interferes. Firstly, I'm not marrying Elena. I will  _never_  marry Elena. Secondly, I do love you, even when I don't listen and nearly get myself killed because of it."

Merlin could imagine the soppy smile on his face as Arthur finished speaking, his breath hitching slightly in his throat as he worked out how to respond.

"Shut up," Arthur said, grinning, pre-empting anything Merlin might say in response by capturing his lips once more, tugging lightly on Merlin's arched cupid bow until Merlin stopped smiling and responded in earnest.

"Stay," Arthur said, pressing their foreheads together. "Stay here. With me."

"You know I can't," Merlin replied sadly.

"Soon," Arthur nodded, and even though he was going cross-eyed from being so close Merlin could see the conviction shining in the Pri nce's eyes.

"Soon," Merlin agreed with a smile.

* * *

"So, I had a clear view of the first half," Merlin waved his hands. "But I didn't see anything of the incident as I'd gotten lost looking for a toilet and ended up in the club house by accident."

Morgause looked like she had just swallowed another lemon. "How interesting…But the Prince didn't have much time to recover from the stress of exams before he jetted off on a summer charity scheme with the Princess Royal, did he?"

"No, he didn't," Merlin replied fighting to keep the bitterness out of his tone. He tapped his fingers on his knees; he was hoping that Gwen would just burst in with Morgana on the phone, but no such luck so far.

"And what did you do that summer?" Morgause didn't look very interested.

"I went home," Merlin shrugged. "And I went to stay with my Godfather in London for a couple of weeks just for a change of scenery."  _And to have chats with a dragon, and to practise ancient spells, and to learn more about the history of magic_ , he added silently.

"Mmm," Morgause agreed vaguely. "Tell me, Merlin. Were you surprised by the announcement at the end of the summer?"

Merlin's fingers stopped tapping and he clasped them together instead. "I was."

_And I wasn't the only one..._


	29. Chapter 29

“Had the Prince not dropped any hints whatsoever before leaving for the summer?"

Ignoring the fact that there hadn't actually been any hints to give, Merlin shook his head, "No. None at all."

"And yet you were his closest confidante?"

"Arthur hadn't made his decision before he left Albion for the summer," Merlin thought he might be reciting Annis' words again. "The work he did in Kenya inspired him to take on some of his Royal Duties earlier than anticipated."

"Yet, the public did not believe this to be the real reason behind the Prince's decision," Morgause locked her eyes with Merlin's. "Did they?"

"Only because the media  _led them to believe_  that Arthur had an ulterior motive," Merlin spoke coldly.

"Surely you can understand why people believed that to be the case, Merlin?" Morgause asked, that horrible simpering tone back in her voice. "Prince Arthur had shown remarkable academic promise in his studies at Albion, so for Clarence House to announce his decision to abandon his studies-"

"He didn't  _abandon_  his studies," Merlin growled defensively. "He remained in close contact with his Albion tutors during his time in Denmark. He completed the same amount of work as other students on his course during Michaelmas Term."

"Hmm," Morgause nodded, a perfect impression of thoughtfulness. "But  _Denmark_ , Merlin, the family home of the Lady Astolat? It was inevitable that talk of a relationship between the pair would surface; they did, after all, spend an inordinate amount of time together, with Lady Elena travelling back to Amalienborg on weekends whilst she continued her studies in Mercia."

"They were, and still  _are_ , good friends," Merlin gritted out. "Lady Elena was forced to  _retreat_  to Copenhagen due to the level of harassment she was facing in Mercia."

Merlin didn't remember the time fondly, but he couldn't deny that things ha d been changing significantly. If only he'd paid more attention  _then,_  if he'd known he should have been more worried about grand schemes and Destiny, then  _maybe_  it wouldn't have all gone to hell after Christmas. Maybe he would have spotted a clue…

* * *

" _Arthur_." Merlin said warningly as the Prince brushed his hand against Merlin's own on the way to the Union.

"What?" Arthur was the picture of wide-eyed innocence, if you ignored the fact he was smirking like the smug prat he was.

"It's not exactly dark is it?" Merlin gestured at the sun still in the sky. It was eight-thirty on their last night in Albion before the summer and Merlin was looking forward to an evening out with Arthur, Gwen and Lance to celebrate the end of exams.

"You're the one who wanted to go out this early," Arthur grumbled. "I was perfectly happy to sit in the house watching  _Grand Designs_  and eating takeaway for the evening."

"And how would that have looked?" Merlin arched an eyebrow at his boyfriend. "I can see the headline now:  _Prince Arthur spends evening at home with urchin friend while the_ _ **entire studentship**_ _of Albion University celebrate their last night in the city. What could they have possibly been getting up to? Turn to page four for further speculation_."

Arthur gave Merlin a sideways look and frowned. " _That's_  your idea of a headline? Christ, Merlin, whatever you do, don't go into journalism when you graduate."

"You know what I meant," Merlin rolled his eyes. "And you know I'm right."

Arthur grumbled; that was as much agreement as Merlin was going to get. "But I'm not going to see you for over two months, Merlin.  _Two months_."

"Shut up, Arthur," Merlin said as his stomach rolled. "We're not talking about that, remember?"

Arthur rubbed a hand across his face. They'd spent the past four weeks in a haze of revision and finals, which wasn't exactly the type of haze either of them had wanted. Furthermore, considering Arthur's final exam had been that afternoon (the History department at Albion notorious for scheduling the final exam of the year) there hadn't really been any time to rectify that.

"Arthur?" Merlin asked quietly, wishing he could just reach out and take the Prince's hand.

Arthur gave him a tiny smile. "No," he said softly. "You're right.  _Annoyingly_."

"Look," Merlin nudged him gently with a nod to the distance as they stopped at the kerb, waiting for the traffic light's to change. "It's Gwen and Lance."

Arthur followed the line of Merlin's gaze to see Lance and Gwen sitting on the wall outside the fish and chip shop. Gwen was laughing loudly at something Lance had said while he had his arm around her waist. He turned to face Merlin properly and gave him  _that_  look; the one that had crossed his face every time he saw a couple in public together. He huffed a sigh with a shrug and crossed the road, Merlin trailing slightly behind.

"Arthur!" Gwen beamed, her and Lance standing as the Prince reached them. "How was your exam?"

"Hellish," Arthur rolled his eyes before leaning down to kiss her on the cheek, before turning to clap Lance on the back.

"That bad, my friend?" Lance grimaced in sympathy.

"He was fine," Merlin tried to lighten Arthur's mood by taking the opportunity to squeeze the Prince's shoulder in what could be considered a 'friendly' gesture by any of the whispering groups of students walking by. "He just felt like his family was being judged in some way."

" _Mer_ lin," Arthur rolled his eyes, a brief flash of gratefulness in his eyes, "there was a whole section on the villainy of the Crusades."

"Well it's not my fault you descended from a bunch of murderers and thieves," Merlin shrugged, an impish grin pulling on his lips.

"I think that's actually treason," Arthur replied calmly. "I'll have to tell my father."

Gwen was looking adoringly between the two of them. "Oh, boys."

It was a toss up as to who scowled at her in response first.

"Come on," Merlin said eventually. "There's going to b e an enormous queue as it is."

Arthur snorted as Gwen and Lance led the way. "We're not queuing, Merlin."

"Don't be a prat, Arthur," Merlin shook his head. "You haven't played the 'I'm the Prince of Wales therefore I don't have to queue like you mortal commoners' card in months."

"No, I haven't," Arthur smirked, adjusting the collar of his polo shirt, "and I won't do it now, if you really don't want me to. But just know…" He trailed off, his grin widening.

Merlin scrunched up his face, sensing that he was going to regret asking. "Just know what?"

"The sooner we get into the Union, the sooner we're in semi-darkness…where people can't see us properly." And that was  _definitely_  a leer.

Merlin arched one eyebrow, keeping the rest of his face in a neutral expression. "You know very well you can't grope me in public. Semi-darkness or not."

"Alright, alright," Arthur sighed in irritation. "Fine. I just don't want to queue. I h ave to sit on a plane with  _Morgana_  for nine hours tomorrow,  _and_   _then_  I have to spend the next two bloody  _months_  living with her."

"I already told you," Merlin laughed lightly. "I'm perfectly happy to spend the next two months in Kenya with Morgana; you'll just have to go home to my mum for a while, and then help Gaius with his filing in my place."

"Or you could just come to Kenya," Arthur replied. "Also, I actually would rather spend time with your mother and Gaius than Morgana. You wound me, Merlin, laughing at my pain."

"Stop being ridiculous," Merlin rolled his eyes as Arthur pouted slightly. "Fine, we don't have to queue, but can you not make a big deal out of gracing the Union with your presence."

"Why would you think I'd do something like that?" Arthur asked innocently.

" _Arthur_."

"Fine," Arthur stuck out his tongue quickly. "We'll be  _covert_."

 

**ooOOoo**

"Arthur, this isn't exactly covert!" Merlin yelled into Arthur's ear, one arm around the Prince's shoulders, his other around Lance's. Gwen was stuck between her boyfriend and Arthur, her arms wrapped round their backs awkwardly as she sang along to  _Livin' on a Prayer_ , her words punctuated by loud, breathless giggles as they all jumped up and down in the middle of the dance floor.

Arthur beamed in reply, ducking their four heads together, planting a sideways kiss on Merlin's cheek as he did so.

Merlin laughed loudly, throwing his head back when Arthur grabbed Gwen around the waist and began to spin her wildly around. The Prince and Gwen clutched onto each other as they dissolved into helpless giggles. It was hard to worry about being watched when everyone else was in an equally euphoric state of celebration.

A redhead in a summer dress grabbed Merlin's hand and pulled him into her circle of friends as the final verse of the song began. He lasted a full thirty seconds before he was snatched backwards by a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry," Arthur beamed at the girls. "We need him for the chorus."

Merlin rolled his eyes as the girls practically fell over from the full force of Arthur's cockiest smile. Arthur's fingers tightened on his shoulder, drawing him back into the huddle with Gwen and Lance.

"Prat," Merlin muttered close to Arthur's ear.

"Yes," Arthur whispered with a laugh, "but I'm  _your_  prat…and I love you."

Merlin's smile lit up his face as he opened his mouth to belt out the final chorus of the last song of the night.

 

**ooOOoo**

"Come in." Merlin said to Arthur quietly as Owain pulled the car over outside Merlin's flat. "Please?"

Arthur's eyes roamed over Merlin's face for a long moment before he nodded. "Leon," he called to the front of the car as Gwen and Lance climbed out. "I'm staying here for a while. You don't need to stay."

"Arthur, you need to be leaving for the airport at six," Leon frowned. "It's after two o'clock as it is."

"I know," Arthur replied, "but it's the last night of the year, and lots of people are staying with friends for the night, and I'll be leaving in a few hours anyway. My bags have already gone to Kensington so I don't need to do anything else, but you and Owain need to get some rest."

"Arthur, I'm sure I don't have to remind you that the paparazzi don't care if it's the middle of the night they m-"

" _Leon_ ," Arthur said forcefully, his eyes widening slightly. "I want to stay with my friends, like a  _normal_  studen t."

"Not to mention the number of attempts that have now been made on your-"

" _Please_."

Merlin and Leon both tensed at the slight catch in Arthur's voice. It wasn't like the Prince to plead. Leon bowed his head and remained silent for a long moment. Merlin's hand was beginning to go numb under the death grip Arthur was exerting on his fingers.

"So help me, Arthur," Leon's voice was grave, "if  _anything_  happens to you while we're not here I will kill you myself. Are we clear?"

Arthur nodded quickly. He didn't say anything as he hurried out of the car and through the open door of the flat without a backwards glance.

"Merlin," Leon nodded. "We'll be back in a few hours."

"Thank you, Leon," Merlin ducked his head. "I think he really needs this."

"I know," Leon said softly.

Merlin gave him a small smile before getting out of the car and closing the door quietly behind him. He watched the black car pull away b efore retreating into the flat.

"Have a wonderful time in Kenya," Gwen was stepping back from hugging Arthur when Merlin found them in the kitchen.

"I will," Arthur nodded. "Even if Morgana is probably going to be a slave driver."

"Safe journey," Lance grinned as he shook Arthur's hand. "We'll see you in September."

Gwen and Lance both wrapped Merlin in a silent hug (an extra squeeze from Gwen) before leaving the two boys alone.

"I can't believe it's taken five months to engineer a good enough excuse to be allowed to stay here," Arthur ran a hand over his face. He dropped into a kitchen chair, looking suddenly drawn. "I'm sick of all this, Merlin."

Merlin's heart gave a traitorous lurch. "What?"

Arthur looked up, immediately jumping to his feet and crossing the room as he saw Merlin's expression. "No, no," he dropped his arms to Merlin's waist. "Not of you. God, Merlin,  _never_ of you." He dropped his head to rest it on Merl in's shoulder. "I'm sick of keeping this a secret. I'm sick of being in the same room as you and not being able to spend time with you  _just in case_  someone gets the wrong idea…well,  _the right idea_ , I suppose."

Merlin ran his hands soothingly up and down Arthur's back.

"I just…I look at Lance and Gwen and…" Arthur sighed. "I keep thinking about telling my father."

Merlin stilled his ministrations at that. "Arthur, you can't d-"

"Why not, Merlin?" Arthur stepped back, hands carding through his hair. "Why shouldn't I be able to tell my father that I'm in a relationship with you? That you're the only person who has real faith in me and makes me want to live up to those expectations?" He paused and took a deep breath. "That I think I might have found what he had with my mother?"

Merlin's breath caught in his throat as Arthur's words washed over him. "Arthur-"

"I know. I  _know_  how mad that sounds, okay?" Arth ur was pacing by the fridge, just out of arm's reach. "But it's true, and I know this isn't really the time or the place to say any of this, but you're driving me fucking crazy, Merlin."

Merlin frowned. Arthur clenched his fists.

"What is  _wrong_  with me?" Arthur growled, berating himself. "I  _meant_  it's driving me crazy that you're being okay with all of this secrecy when I just… _can't_. That you're okay about pretending you don't care whenever one of those stupid teen magazines publishes some ridiculous list of the girls I should be pursuing. Or that you-"

Merlin's hand on Arthur's mouth was an effective silencer. "Arthur, do you honestly think I want it to be like this?"

Arthur's eyes were slightly wild.

Merlin sighed as he dropped his hand. "I don't want to keep this a secret any more than you do. But this isn't really our choice. Not yet.  _You_  are the Prince of Wales, Arthur, and one day,  _you_ will have the power to fight for what you believe to be right; to stand up and declare to the world what kind of man you are and what kind of King you will be. But that time isn't now. I couldn't bear to stand by and watch you be judged before you've shown the world just how much  _good_  you will do. You told me that your first duty must always be to your people…and Arthur, that is the truth."

"No," Arthur frowned, brushing his thumbs lightly across Merlin's cheeks. "The wellbeing of his people is the primary duty of the  _Prince of Wales_ , but I will never be the King you believe I can be unless I also stay true to what I,  _Arthur_ , hold as important."

Merlin curled his hand around the back of Arthur's neck and pulled him in for a gentle kiss. He could feel Arthur trembling slightly beneath him. "Arthur,  _you_  will be the greatest King this country has ever known. I have every faith that you will do the right thing when the tim e comes, and I swear I will be by your side for as long as you need me."

Arthur pulled back slightly and looked at Merlin in wonderment. "There are times, Merlin, when you display a sort of…" he shook his head and Merlin was sure a smirk started to appear. "I don't know what it is. I want to say - it's not wisdom. But yes, that's what it is."

Arthur's smile was slightly strained, but Merlin would take what he could get. His own lips curved upwards as a small laugh escaped his lips.

"Don't look so pleased," Arthur rolled his eyes, but drawing Merlin's head onto his chest anyway, "the rest of the time you look like a complete idiot."

"But  _your_  idiot," Merlin mumbled into the fabric of Arthur's polo shirt.

"I'm sorry," Arthur gave him a small smile as he pulled away.

Merlin shook his head and twined one of Arthur's hands with his own. "Come on." He tugged Arthur out of the kitchen and into his bedroom, softly closing the door beh ind them.

Arthur looked around the room that was now no more than a bed and cardboard boxes filled with books and clothes. "Sorry I can't help you move out tomorrow."

Merlin squeezed Arthur's hand. "It's alright. I know you planned your flight time on purpose because, you know, what would the world do if they saw Prince Arthur being  _helpful?_ "

"Hilarious," Arthur rolled his eyes. He pushed Merlin gently until he sat down on the edge of the mattress.

Merlin shuffled backwards, reaching up to pull Arthur down next to him, snorting with laughter when they ended up as a tangle of limbs on the narrow mattress.

"Next time we engineer it so that we're at my house," Arthur laughed. "At least I have a bed fit for two people."

"Shut up," Merlin rolled his eyes.

"Gladly," Arthur replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he pressed his lips to Merlin's.

Merlin sighed contentedly as Arthur's kisses became a little more desperat e. Hands tangled in hair before roaming across shoulder blades, all the while each boy trying to prove to the other that  _everything_ would be okay eventually.

"Merlin," Arthur gasped breathlessly after a few minutes, his fingertips pressing into Merlin's hipbones. "Merlin-I-want-"

Merlin nodded, even as he was returning to cover Arthur's lips with his own once more, nipping gently as Arthur clutched at him. His fingers drifted down to the hem of Arthur's shirt and he tugged lightly, his intent clear.

"Wait." Arthur pulled away, grasping Merlin's hands in his own. "I'm leaving in two hours, Merlin," he said softly, looking at the other boy imploringly. "I'm not going to see you for two months."

"All the more reason t-"Merlin was cut off as Arthur pressed two fingers against his lips.

"All the more reason to  _not_." Arthur looked a little bit like he wanted to actually strangle himself for saying that, but he didn't try to correc t his words.

Merlin ducked his head to his chest, suddenly feeling more self-conscious than he ever had around Arthur.

"Merlin, look at me." Arthur waited until he saw dark blue eyes before continuing. "I already don't know how I'm supposed to go two months without you… _God,_ I've turned into a massive girl, haven't I?"

Merlin laughed, but he was still blushing.

"Just…"Arthur trailed off, running his thumb over the ring Merlin had actually worn that evening. "Not tonight. It's not… _right_."

Merlin smiled fondly. "Massively girly, noble prat."

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin was loathed to admit that his heart jumped into his throat when he saw that he had an email from Arthur. The Prince had been in Kenya for almost a month and their contact had been minimal; it turns out even the most expensive phone in the world can't find decent reception in the middle of nowhere. Instead they'd had to rely on emails, though Merlin was convinced carrier pigeons or postcards would be quicker as Arthur often couldn't leave the village where he was volunteering.

The sender apparently wasn't Arthur Pendragon, but there was no denying it was from him.

**Wednesday 22**   **nd**   ** June, 2011   
**

**From:**  Augustus Clotpole **  
To:**[MWEmrys01@Albion.ac.uk](mailto:MWEmrys01@Albion.ac.uk)

 **Subject:**   _Roaming hands_

Merlin!

Why the fuck aren't you out here? I think Morgana might be a demon sent from Hell just to torture me. If you were here she'd be nicer. Actually, no she wouldn't. She'd be nicer to you, but not to me.

I'm being harassed by gap year students, Merlin. Seriously, if one more of them tells me they're here because I inspired them so much whilst they casually try to grope by backside I'm going to start throwing things. Probably at Morgana.

You have nothing to worry about, by the way. All groping has been inferior to yours, plus these girls keep telling me how wonderful I am – this is awkward as, because of you, I'm only used to being insulted and can no longer accept a compliment.

Did you have a good time in Wales? Any more magical creatures try to kill you? Has your mum vandalised Will's mum's conservatory yet?

I'm sunburnt, by the way. I wasn't going to tell you, but Morgana has photographic evidence, and so does the BBC, so you're going to find out anyway. If you laugh, Emrys, I might just stay in Kenya and you'll have to find someone else you can harangue.

Yours (prattishly)

A

Merlin laughed as he reached the end of the email and opened up a tab on his browser to search for photos of sunburnt Arthur.

 

**ooOOoo**

But by mid-August Merlin was beginning to lose patience with the distance between him and Arthur. They'd exchanged five or six emails and had one aborted (due to terrible reception) phone call. He was also losing patience with how busy London was; yes, he'd complained that Ealdor was boring, but Gaius had him spending almost every waking moment learning more about magic.

Therefore he wasn't in a good mood when he found himself trapped for almost two hours in a stifling carriage on the Piccadilly Line, only scant metres from his destination of Hyde Park Corner. He'd been on his way to see the Dragon. Not that he entirely believed the Dragon actually existed – he had been quite ill the first time they met after all. But it likely was real as it kept shouting at him and demanding his presence any time he was in range…which Merlin had worked out was anywhere in Zone One. Thankfully Gaius lived safely within the boundaries of Zone Two so at least he could ign ore the grumblings unless he chose to go into central London.

In short, he wasn't having a brilliant summer, so when he finally managed to surface from the clammy depths of the Underground he was  _not_ pleased that his phone alerted him to a missed call from Arthur.

He was mid-grumble when his phone emitted a series of beeps that alerted him to the fact that Arthur had actually called him eleven times, Morgana had called twice, and he had two voicemails. With shaking hands and an overwhelming sense of dread he dialled the voicemail number and held the phone to his ear, punching the screen angrily at the chirpy tone of the menu system.

" **First, New Message. Message received today at eleven fourteen am."**

 _"Merlin_." It was Arthur, but he sounded awful.  _Oh God, Oh God_ , what had happened?

" _I don't want you to freak out, but I'm not coming back-"_

 _ **"End of message!"**_ The cloying female voice announced. Merlin's heart was hammering and he felt sick. What did Arthur mean ' _not coming back'_?

**"Next, New Message. Message received today at eleven eighteen am."**

_**"**_ _Fuck, that cut out in the wrong place. Merlin, I'm not coming back to Albion in September. Christ, Merlin, my father's arranged it all without me. I'm going to Denmark until Christmas. He wants me to-to-_ Fuck _I can't do this. I can't-I don't want-"_

Merlin slumped back against a wall as Arthur's voice became a mumble. Then followed the sound of the phone shifting.

 _"Merlin."_ It was Morgana.

_"Merlin, Arthur can't talk right now. Uther's sending him to Denmark until Christmas. He's told Arthur that it's safer for him to be away from Albion until that fucking council have decided it's secure enough for him to go back, but that's not really why…"_

Merlin felt ill as Morgana paused.

_"Arthur's going to stay with Elena's family in Copenhagen. Uther accepted the invitation on Arthur's behalf. He can't refuse it; not without starting a messy international incident. They're making a statement to the press this afternoon. Merlin, I'll do whatever I can, but I can't p-"_

_"_   _ **End of message."**_

 

 

**ooOOoo**

**Thursday 18**   **th**   **August 2011 17:23**

**From:**  Augustus Clotpole **  
To:**[MWEmrys01@Albion.ac.uk](mailto:MWEmrys01@Albion.ac.uk)

 **Subject:**  (no subject)

Merlin, please answer your phone. Please.

Arthur

*******

**Friday 19**   **th**   **August 2011 09:01**

**From:**  Augustus Clotpole **  
To:**[MWEmrys01@Albion.ac.uk](mailto:MWEmrys01@Albion.ac.uk)

 **Subject:**  (no subject)

It's not my fault.  
I don't know what to do.  
I need to talk to you. I need you to tell me what I should do

*******

**Friday 19**   **th**   **August 2011 19:46**

**From:**  Augustus Clotpole **  
To:**[MWEmrys01@Albion.ac.uk](mailto:MWEmrys01@Albion.ac.uk)

 **Subject:**  Please

I need you

*******

**Saturday 20**   **th**   **August 2011 11:08**

**From:**  Morgana Pendragon **  
To:**[MWEmrys01@Albion.ac.uk](mailto:MWEmrys01@Albion.ac.uk)

 **Subject:**  Merlin. Seriously.

Merlin, I understand that you're upset. Trust me, I really do. But this isn't Arthur's fault – he's getting enough crap from Uther and Clarence House because he looks sullen in all the latest photographs from the project. He doesn't need this from you as well. He's driven to this fucking internet café every day for the past three days and just sat here, waiting for you to reply. If he wasn't my brother I'd think it was pathetic.

I told Arthur I'd break his neck if he ever hurt you, I never thought to say the same to you, because I never expected you to do anything wrong. Maybe that was me being naive, but I'd rather not believe that was the case.

Call him, Merlin. Because I know you're not cruel.

***

**Sunday 21**   **st**   **August 2011 19:03**

**From:**  Merlin W Emrys **  
To:** Augustus Clotpole { **secure** }

 **Subject:**  (no subject)

I don't know what to say

 

**ooOOoo**

The phone was answered within a second of the call finally ringing out.

"Merlin?"

Merlin sighed miserably at the shake in Arthur's voice. "Arthur, I'm sorry. I didn't know what to do."

Arthur took a shaky breath and Merlin didn't find it hard to imagine what the Prince looked like. Morgana had sent links to the myriad of news sites covering the Pendragon siblings' work in Kenya; for the past three days Arthur had looked less and less like a confident Prince and more like a gaunt teenager.

"I'm sorry," Merlin repeated, not finding it in himself to care that his words were accompanied by something akin to a sob.

"Fuck, Merlin, please don't apologise," Arthur replied sadly. "It's not your fault, and I'm sorry you found out the way that you did. I just couldn't bear the thought of you hearing it on the news."

"It's okay," Merlin said quietly, wiping his face with his sleeve. "Does this mean you won't be back until Christmas?"

Arthur sighed heavily and Merlin knew there had to be an added complication in here somewhere. "A friend of mine from school is getting married in September," Arthur explained eventually. "The wedding's in Kent…and Elena is coming as my guest."

Merlin gripped the phone tighter.

"Elena and I want to make it very clear to the press that we are  _not_  and  _never will be_  in a relationship, but as much as we deny it, they are  _never_  going to believe us. Not until we're with other people." Arthur paused to steady his voice. "Merlin, I am begging you to ignore the press. Please." Arthur sounded desperate. "I've seen how they can poison people's minds, Merlin, and I can't let that happen to you. Ignore what my father says and please,  _please_ ignore anything that comes out of Clarence House. And please, don't be angry with Elena."

Merlin's throat had tightened as Arthur spoke. "How could I ever be angry with Elena? But Arthur, I-"

"Please just  _trust me_ , Merlin."

"I do," Merlin breathed. "I  _do_  trust you, Arthur. But December?"

"I'll think of something. I promise you that."

The connection dropped.

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin was sure the Dragon was frowning at him. Well as much as a dragon could frown. He'd spent much of September trying to catalogue the Dragon's facial expressions in the hope it would help him to decipher his obscure ramblings. (It hadn't.)

"Young Warlock…" the Dragon trailed off and flapped his wings a couple of times. "You seem…troubled."

Merlin glared and sat down on the cavern floor. Somehow the Dragon had managed to break through to Zone Two at half-four that morning loudly demanding to know why Merlin hadn't visited him recently and so, an hour later, here he was.

"Why?" The Dragon asked. "Young Pendragon is alive and well, is he not?"

"Alive, yes," Merlin grumbled.

"Oh…" The Dragon  _definitely_  frowned this time. "I see…"

"You see  _what?_ " Merlin asked, a frown of his own knitting his brows.

The Dragon sighed tiredly. "Nothing I haven't seen before, Merlin. For two people bound so tightl y by Destiny you have a terrible habit of veering from your primary path into mires of self-doubt and melancholy. I had rather hoped you'd grown out of that…"

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin was heading back across Hyde Park, entirely focused on trying to untangle the cryptic messages of the Dragon, when he bumped into someone.

"Oh God,  _sorry!_ " He held his hands up in apology, and then frowned.

"Merlin!" The vaguely-familiar boy smiled cheerily.

"Hi?" Merlin tried, an apologetic wince in place.

The boy laughed, holding out his hand for Merlin to shake. "Mordred Cornish. I work on Annis' team at Clarence House."

"Oh!" Merlin shook the offered hand as realisation dawned. "Of course. You were the one who was as engrossed in her lecture as I was."

Mordred laughed again, a wide smile on his face. "I can't deny that she can be incredibly dull. But she's the best in her business and I've learnt a lot."

"She's quite…" Merlin trailed off.

"Intimidating?" Mordred grinned.

"Yeah," Merlin nodded his head. "Yeah, that about sums it up."

"I didn't realise you lived in London."

"Oh, I don't," Merlin shrugged. "I'm staying with my Godfather until Friday. Then it's back to Wales until term starts."

Mordred nodded. "Mad news about Arthur, isn't it?"

Merlin schooled his features into a neutral expression. "Yeah. Wasn't expecting that."

Mordred chuckled. "One of the girls was telling me he's been stomping around ever since he arrived back at about two this morning."

Merlin blinked a few times. "Sorry, what?"

Mordred frowned. "Oh, apparently he's an awful mood. Oh…I shouldn't be saying things like that, should I?"

Merlin let out a strained laugh. "No, it's fine. He can be a bit… _difficult._ "

Mordred look at his watch. "Crap. Sorry, Merlin, I've got to run. I'm supposed to be over at The Dorchester in five minutes. I'll see you around?"

"Yeah," Merlin gave his best imitation of a smile as Mordred waved and jogged away from him.

He gave himself thirty seconds, until the urge to kick a bench passe d, before pulling out his phone and calling Arthur.

"Merlin?" Arthur asked cautiously. A little like he'd been caught…

"Oh, hello there,  _Arthur_ ," Merlin said brightly. "How are you on this wonderfully sunny morning?"

"Er…I'm alright, Merlin, liste-"

"Are you doing anything interesting today?"

"Well, I, er…it's-"

"Like possibly telling me you're in London?"

"You can't yell at me in my own park,  _Mer_ lin."

Merlin whirled around as the voice came from behind him. He didn't know what to do now that he was actually faced with Arthur standing in front of him; the Prince hiding his face in his hoodie despite the fact the sun was splitting the stones. He opened his mouth and gaped. "How?"

"How am  _I_  here? I was on a plane for a most of yesterday." Arthur shrugged. "How did I know you were here? Easy. Gaius told me you were in the area, and the wonders of CCTV did the rest."

Merlin continued to stare.

Arthur folded his arms. "You thought I wasn't going to tell you I was in London, didn't you?"

Merlin had the grace to look sheepish for a few seconds before he balled his fists. "Have I told you recently that I  _hate_  you, Arthur Pendragon?"

"Shut up,  _Mer_ lin," Arthur took one step closer to him and there was no denying the fondness that radiated from his smile. "I have to leave for Kent this evening, because my father is coming back to London…and I don't want him to know I've been here, or give him any opportunity to speak to me."

Merlin shuddered at the sharp edge to Arthur's voice. Uther was not yet forgiven then, despite Arthur's public statement 'that he was looking forward to the opportunity he's been given to work with a global charity at their Head Office in Copenhagen, whilst still studying for his degree.'

"Merlin," Arthur said softly, his hand coming close to almost touching Merlin's arm. "Would you like to come in for a coffee? And by coffee I mean would you like to come in so I can pin you to the wall and kiss you until you've forgiven me for being a fuckwit."

Merlin grinned, still feeling bewildered. He thought the Dragon might be proud.

* * *

Morgause smiled. "Oh, but it was in the public interest, Merlin. Particularly as the Prince's brief return to England at the start of September saw him attending the wedding of his school friend Thomas Radnor to Lady Alexandra Derbyshire; Lady Elena accompanying him as his guest. Everyone was pleased to see the Prince embarking on a relationship with someone he obviously cared about, particularly after the unhappy conclusion of his liaison with Sophia Tirmor."

"Arthur and Elena were  _not_  in a relationship," Merlin pulled at his jumper, completely ignoring the fact he'd left titles entirely out of that sentence.

"They said as much themselves," Morgause replied.

"And yet the stories didn't stop."

"Did you keep in contact with the Prince while he was in Denmark?"

"Of course I did," Merlin waved a hand.

"When did you see him next?"

"December." Merlin replied confidently.  _Liar, liar, liar._

"December?" Mor gause frowned.

 _October. October. October._ " **December.** "


	30. Chapter 30

“The Prince spent time in Italy during his term abroad, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” Merlin replied. “The Royal Family keep an apartment in Rome and Arthur went there for a few days in order to work on his dissertation.”

“Did the Prince have any visitors in Rome?” Morgause narrowed her eyes and studied Merlin carefully.

“No,” Merlin replied.  _Not in Rome._

* * *

“Stop sending me pictures of what you’re having for breakfast when I’m in tutorials, Arthur!” Merlin grumbled into his phone, wedging it between his chin and shoulder as he stepped out of  _Delia’s_ with a takeaway coffee and a slice of apple strudel in a paper bag. “I’m spending all my money in  _Delia’s_  because my stomach’s growling so much by ten o’clock. All because you’re taunting me with photogenic pastries!” He managed to wiggle the bag into his satchel without undoing the straps and began hurrying up the cold, damp street away from the university.

Arthur snorted with laughter. “You could just wait until you get home and have some toast or something. It’s not like you can ever eat whatever it is you buy when you’re using one hand for the phone and the other’s full of coffee.”

“Good point. I’ll just hang up then shall I?” Merlin smirk ed, knowing Arthur would be able to tell even without seeing him.

“What? No!” Arthur spluttered indignantly.

“Relax, Pendragon,” Merlin laughed. “I wouldn’t hang up on you. It’s my duty to keep you sane, after all, and Morgana will have my head if you keep calling her at work.”

“Morgana doesn’t  _work_ , Merlin,” Arthur groused and Merlin could  _hear_  the eye roll. “She just flutters about at events and complains she’s always too busy to talk.”

“ _Arthur!_ ” Merlin remonstrated as his scarf flipped in the wind and hit him in the face. “Yesterday, you called her in the middle of a meeting with the chair of the British Red Cross and the Prime Minister, claiming it was _urgent_.”

“It  _was_  urgent!” Arthur protested.

“You wanted to comp lain because  _Hello_  suggested you were getting a little bit chubby from all the  _pastries_  you were eating!”

“Well I  _tried_  to call  _you_  b-“

“I was in a  _lecture_ , Arthur,” Merlin hissed as he scalded his lip on his coffee. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work now, anyway?”

“I  _am_  at work,” Arthur muttered. “But I’ve run out of things to file and I’m trying to avoid finishing a draft of my dissertation proposal.”

“Arthur,” Merlin admonished, “the deadline for proposals was three days ago.”

“I know, I know, okay?” The weariness in his voice was evident. “But it’s quite hard to sit down and plan a dissertation when I spend all day being harassed about my administration skills by executives who, despite running a  _charity_ , are not particular ly charitable when I give them the wrong file; and then I spend the evening being harassed about my relationship skills by Christian and Jensine –  _Oh, Arthur, why haven’t you proposed to darling Elena yet?_  Well, I’ll tell you why,  _your majesties_ , it’s because-“

 

“Woah, woah, woah,” Merlin spoke loudly to halt Arthur’s rant. “Calm down, Arthur. I thought you liked the King and Queen?”

Arthur sighed. “I do. I  _do_. I just don’t want to mislead them. Christian and Elena practically grew up together; he sees her more as a sister than a cousin. She’s coming here this weekend you know.”

“I know,” Merlin said softly as he waited at the pedestrian crossing. “She called me actually. Last night. Arthur, does she… _know_?”

“Why do you say that?”

“She was just very keen to impress upon me the fact that she had absolutely no interest in you whatsoever –  _no_ , don’t get offended!”

“Hmm.”

“Prat.”

“ _Mer_ lin, d-“ Arthur cut himself off with an annoyed groan. “Fuck. Magnus is heading this way and he does  _not_  look happy. Fuck, I have to go. I love you.”

Merlin didn’t get a chance to reply before angry Danish (Magnus), followed by  _slightly_  more repentant Danish (Arthur) filtered through the phone, eventually cutting off with a decisive click.

He snorted with laughter, ignoring the raised eyebrows of a pair of Albion students walking in the other direction.

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin and Gwen were sitting on the sofa in their ‘new’ flat the Saturday after Arthur’s run-in with Magnus (Gwen still insisted on referring to it as the ‘new’ flat because so much had happened when they lived on Alderley Road that she hadn’t quite let go of it yet) continuing the tradition of watching the end of  _BBC Breakfast_  before it segued into  _Saturday Kitchen_. Lance, who had turned into quite the morning person, had gone out for a run long before Merlin had passed the Coco Pops to a sleepy Gwen.

They were both so focused on ensuring their spoons made it from bowls to mouths without spillage that they missed the beginning of the story, only jerking to attention when the female presenter’s words cut through their drowsy defences.

**“…the Prince of Wales accompanied the family to the dinner at the recently-renovated five s tar Hotel D'Angleterre in Copenhagen.”**

Merlin and Gwen looked at each other as a clip of the Danish Royal Family arriving at an opulent hotel played on the screen as the presenter spoke. The sight of Arthur, wearing his ceremonial uniform as Colonel-in-Chief of The King’s Dragoon Guards, was enough for Merlin (and Gwen, not that she’d admit it) to gawp at the television for a long moment.

**“Many were unsurprised to see Lady Astolat, who is fourth in line to the Danish throne, arrive with Prince Arthur. Although the two continue to deny any romantic involvement this is the fourth time they have been seen together in public since the Prince arrived in Denmark.”**

“Elena looks lovely,” Gwen watched Merlin carefully as she spoke.

“She does,” Merlin nodded in complete agreement.

“You’re not worried at all are you? About Elena, I mean.”

Merlin shook his head. “She’s being manipulated just as much as Arthur. So no, I’m not worried.”

“Good,” Gwen stated, patting him on the knee. “Because I really don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

Merlin smiled at her as she took the empty bowl out of hands and carried it to the kitchen. He wasn’t worried about Elena and Arthur actually being a couple, that would have been ridiculous. But two things really were starting to nag at him.

Firstly, he was slightly wary that everything was so quiet. Not that he wanted Arthur to be attacked, but there’d been no sign of any danger in months. It didn’t help that Arthur was nearly a thousand miles away and Merlin wouldn’t be much use if anyone tried to attack the Prince in Copenhagen.

The second thing was, in a way, worrying Merlin more. He still didn’t know how to tell Arthur about his magic.

 

**ooOOoo**

“I don’t know why you won’t just let me buy you a new laptop,” Arthur grumbled.

Merlin pulled the duvet up around him as he adjusted the phone against his ear. “Arthur, we’ve been though this,” he sighed. “I don’t need a new laptop. The one I have is perfectly-“

“Useless, Merlin,” Arthur replied. “ _Perfectly useless_. Skype doesn’t work, Merlin. Anyway, you had no problem accepting the phone did you?”

“That was necessary,” Merlin muttered. “It was your fault mine was broken in the first place.”

“This is just you being pig-headed. If you had a laptop that had been built this  _century-_ “

“ _Arthur_ , I’ve only had it for two years, and-“

“It’s like an antique, Merlin! It’s basically a brick with no br ain and, in fact, no redeeming features at all.”

“Sounds a bit like someone I know...”

“ _Oi_!”

“Crown Princes don’t say ‘ _oi_ ’, Arthur,” Merlin smirked.

Arthur responded with a high-pitched imitation of Merlin.

“Goodnight, Arthur,” Merlin rolled his eyes.

“Oh, bugger off, Merlin,” Arthur muttered. “You know as well as I do that you’re not going to hang-“

Merlin pressed ‘End Call’ with a satisfactory swipe of his thumb. He stifled a laugh as the handset began ringing again immediately. He counted to five before answering. “Hi, you’ve reached Merlin Emrys. He doesn’t take calls from arrogant prats who-“

“Shut up,  _Mer_ lin,” Arthur replied, an unexpected hint of smugness in his to ne, “or I won’t tell you what your surprise is.”

“What surprise?” Merlin was ashamed at how quickly he asked the question.

“Oh, right, so you’ll speak to me now you’re getting something out of it?” Arrogant Arthur was back. “I see how it is.”

“Stop being a prat or I’ll hang up again. Even with the threat of not finding out what the surprise is.”

Silence.

“Arthur?”

More silence.

“Arthur?”

“Fine.” A resigned sigh. “Spoilsport. You know you really are the most annoying person on the planet. I wonder why I put up with you at all.”

Merlin grinned as Arthur rambled, trying to ignore the fuzzy wave of contentment spreading through his body.

“I might ha ve worked out how to see you before December.”

The soporific haze that had begun to descend on Merlin dissipated immediately. “What? How?”

Arthur laughed. “Somehow I knew that would get your attention.”

“Well?”

“What are you doing next week?”

“Nothing special,” Merlin shrugged to himself. “It’s a Reading Week so no lectures. But I really need to start planning my dissertation properly.”

“You lead such an exciting life, Merlin.”

“You know me,” Merlin grinned. “Why? Are you coming back to Albion?”

“No,” Arthur said seriously. “My father is still under the impression I believe his story about Albion being full of magical threats, and I’d actually like to keep it that way at the moment. God know what he'd do if he thought I’d discovered his super secret matrimonially-based nefarious intentions.”

“They’re not that secret, Arthur.”

“Yes, well,  _he_  seems to think I don’t know that the world media is speculating about my relationship with Elena.”

“Is that the official term?”

“What?” Arthur sounded baffled.

“Super secret matrimonially-based nefarious intentions,” Merlin laughed.

“Yes. You’ll find that’s the code name on all official documents. Now, shut up Merlin or you won’t find anything out.”

“Sorry,  _Sire_.”

“ _Merlin!”_

“Sorry, sorry.”

Arthur muttered something in Danish. “Under no circumstances are you to tell  _anyone_  about this, Merlin. Not Gwen, or Lance, but  _especially_ not Morgana. Okay?”

“Um, okay?”

“I’m serious, Merlin.”

Arthur did sound incredibly serious so Merlin sobered. “Okay, I won’t tell anyone.”

“On Monday morning a car is going to arrive outside your flat,” Arthur explained in a quiet voice, “you need to be ready to leave at seven. Pack one bag with essentials, nothing else. Make sure you’ve got warm clothes with you. Don’t ask anyone about where you’re going, they won’t tell you.”

Merlin was silent, processing what Arthur was suggesting.

“Merlin, did you hear all that?”

“Yeah,” Merlin replied. “I’m just trying to work out whether I should fear for my life or something.”

Arthur laughed. “Not yet. But if anyone finds out what I’m planning then we’re both fucked.”

“ _Great_.”

 

**ooOOoo**

Ten months of knowing Arthur and being involved in the strange world of the modern Royals hadn’t quite prepared Merlin for throwing all caution to the wind and just doing as Arthur asked.

Owain, who Merlin had been happily surprised to see in Albion, had refused to give out any information when he’d herded Merlin into the car and then driven them away from the flat. The bodyguard was perfectly pleasant to chat to, but he made it quite clear that he wouldn’t be divulging Arthur’s secrets to Merlin, no matter how sneaky Merlin was being.

Arthur, annoyingly, wasn’t answering his phone or replying to texts. So Merlin was entirely in the dark when Owain parked the car outside Albion train station.

Merlin frowned. “Um, Owain? I think you might need to tell me where I’m going if I have to get a train.”

Owain turned aro und with a grin. “Here’s your ticket.”

Merlin looked at the tickets carefully. “Nemeth? That’s the first stop on the train to London.”

“Exactly,” Owain’s grin grew larger, clearly enjoying being part of this subterfuge. “Arthur was worried you might be followed, so this is a decoy. When you get off at Nemeth, Robert will be waiting with a car.”

“So, Arthur’s not in Nemeth?” Merlin’s head was starting to spin slightly.

“No. Robert will take you to your next destination. Your train’s in six minutes so you should hurry.”

“Are you sure you can’t tell me what’s going on?” Merlin tried one final time.

“Sorry, Merlin.” Owain didn’t actually look very sorry at all. “Arthur’s enjoying playing the International Man of Mystery. Who would I be if I spoiled his fun?”

 

**ooOOoo**

**From: Arthur  
24th October 2011 19:43**

Having fun?

Merlin hissed angrily at his phone, ignoring the questioning look Owain gave him in the rear view mirror. Yes,  _Owain_ … **again**.

After meeting Robert at Nemeth, Merlin had been driven to the Scotch Corner services on the A1, just outside Darlington where Robert, because he was clearly  _far_ nicer than Arthur and actually thought about Merlin’s state of confusion, bought him a toasted sandwich and a cup of coffee for his lunch. They’d then sat in the car park for nearly three hours before Owain arrived to take Merlin to his final destination. Arthur had made no contact (or answered Merlin’s increasingly irate voicemails and text messages) until now.

Merlin glared at his phone before aggressively tapping a message in reply.

 _If you value your life,_  
Arthur Pendragon, you  
will never do anything  
like this to me again. I  
think I’m in the middle  
of bloody nowhere,  
Scotland. Where am I  
going?

Owain looked at him again, a little sheepishly this time. “Are you alright back there, Merlin?”

Merlin made a non-committal grunt in reply. He looked out the window and was faced with the same blank darkness he’d seen for the past hour. There was no moon, but from the way the car wound through the night Merlin had a sense that the view would be spectacular if it was light enough to see.

“We’re almost there,” Owain said a few minutes later as he slowed the car before indicating, the car turning right.

The car inched excruciatingly slowly up a long straight road as Merlin craned his neck to see  _anything_  outside.

“Have to be careful of the wildlife around here,” Owain said. “You never know what can jump out in front of the car.”

Merlin’s eyes bug ged slightly as the car turned once more and he caught sight of a small green sign, lit by a flood lamp on the left hand side of some intricate wrought-iron gates:

**Castle and Grounds closed to visitors.**

Merlin suddenly had a very good idea of where he was.

The car paused and Owain lowered his window to converse with a man Merlin was sure could probably kill him using just his thumb. He gulped as the man gave him a long look before smiling slightly.

The gates were opened and the car was ushered through.

“Owain…” Merlin trailed off. “Is…is this Balmoral?”

Owain grinned at him, but didn’t confirm or deny Merlin’s suspicion. Merlin took out his phone and quickly sent a text to Arthur.

_Bloody  
Hell_

In the few minutes it took for the car to arrive outside the castle’s entrance, Merlin received no reply. Most of the building was in darkness as they approached, only a large, looming figure on the horizon. But the flickering orange in a few windows alerted Merlin to the fact that fires must have been lit in various rooms. He was a lot less cross with Arthur than when he’d been grumbling into his sandwich earlier.

His anger disappeared entirely when the car finally came to a stop and, after letting himself out of the car before Owain could get there to help, Merlin found himself face to face with Arthur.

“Welcome to Balmoral,” Arthur grinned as Merlin stared stupidly at him for a long moment. The Prince was wearing ratty old jeans and a chunky cable-knit jumper that wouldn’t have looked out of place on Old Kendrick back in Ealdor, and yet …

Merlin, throwing all sense of propriety and need to  _not act like a massive girl_  aside, flung himself at Arthur with all the grace of a knock-kneed fawn. He didn’t care that Owain was there, he didn’t care that he was standing outside a castle, and right then he  _really_  didn’t care that he probably shouldn’t be there. “Bloody,  _bloody_ , hell, Arthur,” he mumbled into Arthur’s neck as the Prince wrapped his arms around his back.

Arthur laughed loudly next to his ear. “Sorry for the ruse.”

“No you’re not,” Merlin grinned as he pulled back, his magic warming him despite the cold night air.

“You’re right,” Arthur shrugged with a smirk. “I’m not. It was fun.”

“And one day people will actually let you  _own_  a country…” Merlin shook his head.

“Shut up,  _Mer_ lin,” Arthur nudged him in the shoulder. “Now can we please go inside?”

 

**ooOOoo**

“So your father thinks you’re in Rome?” Merlin frowned.

“Yes,” Arthur nodded, reaching for the paper in his lap to pop another chip into his mouth.

“And Morgana thinks you’re at Gwaine’s house in Tuscany? And he’s happy to lie about this even though he had no idea why.”

“That’s right,” Arthur was clearly more focused on selecting his next morsel of potato than giving any further information about the ridiculous complexity of his plan.

“The King and Queen of Denmark?”

“Think I’m in Rome, also.”

“What about Elena?”

“Elena knows I’m here. I had to tell someone in case anyone gets suspicious in Denmark. I came in one of the private planes so there’s no record of me being here. Galahad made sure of tha t.”

“Arthur…”Merlin’s frown deepened as Arthur casually reached for his glass of Coke as if they were just sitting in the living room at Caruther’s Terrace, and not in the Library of Balmoral Castle. “Why didn’t you just go to Rome?”

Arthur grinned slightly. “Because in Rome we’d be surrounded by people. There’s nobody here, Merlin. The Castle’s closed to visitors and the weather is crap enough that it will deter anyone venturing too far into the Cairngorms just for a casual look at Balmoral.”

Merlin bit his lip. “You did all this just so we could be on our own for a few days?”

Arthur beamed. “Well, not entirely on our own. But it’s only Owain and Leon, and they won’t say anything to my father. And the rest of the staff here haven’t seen my father since…” his face dropped slightly. “Merlin, this was my mother’s fa vourite house.”

Merlin didn’t hesitate in reaching out to grab Arthur’s hand, ignoring the fact they both had greasy fingers from their supper.

“He hasn’t been up here since she died,” Arthur shrugged. “I started coming up in the summer when I was fifteen, just for an excuse not to be in London. A few of my mother’s old staff were still here,  _are_  still here…they remain loyal to my mother, Merlin, and to me. They won’t tell my father that we’re here.”

Merlin looked at Arthur, unable to stop sadness creeping into his expression.

“What? What’s wrong?” Arthur asked, looking concerned.

“You shouldn’t have to do this Arthur,” Merlin shook his head. “All this sneaking around just to be happy. You shouldn’t have t-“

“Stop right there,” Arthur pressed his fin gers to Merlin’s lips, a stark reminder of how he’d done that on their last night in Albion. “We’re not discussing any of that right now. Please. Just enjoy this for what it is.”

Merlin nodded in agreement, seeing how important this was to Arthur.

“Come here,” Arthur said as he shifted the remains of their supper onto a coffee table. When he leaned back he put one arm around Merlin’s shoulders and tugged him so that his head was against his chest.

“Albion’s really boring without you there to taunt,” Merlin said quietly after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

“You taunt me on the phone,” Arthur said, his voice vibrating his chest under Merlin’s ear.

“It’s not the same,” he shook his head slightly.

“I know,” Arthur dropped his hand to Merlin’s hair and carded his fingers through it in a slow, measured caress.

A combination of the warmth from the fire and Arthur’s tender ministrations had Merlin yawning within moments.

“Okay, bed time,” Arthur said softly.

Merlin was too tired to protest. Not that he would have done.

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin stretched languidly before opening his eyes. He was warm, and infinitely more comfortable than he’d ever been in his life. His lashes parted and when he saw Arthur staring back at him he smiled drowsily.

“Happy birthday,” Merlin mumbled.

Arthur’s eyes widened in surprise. “You know it’s my birthday?”

“Of course I do,” Merlin reached out a hand and pushed Arthur’s fringe back from his eyes, letting his hand linger on his cheek. He also knew what Arthur’s birthday meant – it was also the anniversary of Ygraine’s death. “Let me get your present.”

Merlin rolled away slightly, but Arthur reached out a hand to stop him, grabbing his pyjama t-shirt. “Later. Just…come back.”

Merlin opened his mouth to reply, when there was a knock at the door. Arth ur grinned at Merlin and called, “Come in.”

Merlin’s eyes widened and he pulled the covers over his head, trying to flatten himself into the mattress as far as possible.

“Arthur, sweetheart,” came a soft voice, a lilting accent colouring her words. “Happy Birthday.”

“Thank you, Maggie,” Arthur replied, nudging Merlin with his hand.

“Now, Arthur, is there any particular reason why your young gentleman has poorly concealed himself under a blanket?”

Arthur barked with laughter and Merlin sheepishly pulled the covers away from his face. A woman with a kind, weathered face was smiling at him, as she arranged a breakfast tray on a nearby table. Her silver hair curled softly around her face and her eyes twinkled with amusement.

“Maggie,” Arthur said, still laughing as Merlin pushed him self up on to his elbows to lean back against the headboard like Arthur, “this is Merlin. Merlin, this Maggie Irving, the woman who single-handedly stops this place grinding to a halt.”

“Now, Arthur,” she rolled her eyes at him fondly. “I wouldn’t go quite that far. Merlin, was it, dear?”

Merlin nodded mutely, clearly having forgotten how to form words in his surprise at Arthur’s casual indifference to the fact they were both in the same bed…and someone else was in the room.

“Well, I’d say Fate had more than a little role to play in that one,” Maggie smiled. “Now, the pair of you, I expect all of this to be eaten.” She pointed at the overflowing tray of food.

“She’s not joking,” Arthur said, trying to look serious. “I once wasn’t allowed to leave the dinner table until I’d had five servings of crumble.”

“I bet you were terribly upset about that.” Merlin had finally found his voice.

Maggie looked between the two of them fondly. “You know where we are if you need anything, Arthur. Although, don’t get used to breakfast in bed – it’s only because it’s your birthday!” She pointed a warning finger at the Prince, but she was still smiling. She turned her smile to Merlin before closing the door behind her.

“Your hair was sticking out of the top of the duvet,” Arthur grinned.

“Shut up,” Merlin replied, still feeling a little mortified.

“You can’t tell me to shut up on my birthday!”

“Shut up.” Merlin grinned before darting out of bed in search of a slice of toast.

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin raised his arms to the sky and took in a deep breath of frigid air; he could almost feel every speck of dust and grime from living in the city being pulled from his lungs as he exhaled. They’d left the house an hour ago, and by now they were outside of the boundary wall.

“Having fun there, are we?” Arthur grinned.

Merlin beamed back, looking faintly ridiculous in one of Arthur’s old wax jackets – the shoulders too wide, and the arms slightly too short. “I am  _never_  leaving this place.” He turned his head taking in the rolling Cairngorms practically glowing in the autumnal sunlight. “I’m staying here forever. Sod the degree. Sod life.”

“Fine,” Arthur’s smile softened. “It’s easy to see why my mother loved it so much, isn’t it?”

Merlin, noting the melancholic note in Arthur’s voi ce, strode forward and wrapped his arms around the Prince’s waist. Their noses bumped, slightly pink and tingling from the wind as Merlin leaned down ever so slightly to kiss a smile back on to Arthur’s face.

“Come with me,” Arthur took Merlin’s hand in his own, warming his fingers instantly. “There’s somewhere I want you to see.”

Merlin smiled in agreement and Arthur tugged him to the left, into a lightly wooded area. They didn’t speak as they walked, both seemingly content just to be in the presence of the other and not have to worry about how they acted.

“Here,” Arthur beamed as they exited the woods into a clearing by the river. The water was flowing quickly and Merlin really hoped Arthur wasn’t going to suggest anything that involved catching hypothermia.

Arthur rolled his eyes and turned Merlin’s head. “Not the river, idiot. Lo ok.”

And Merlin did look. An old boathouse stood on the banks, the curling monograms of monarchs past clearly stating who this belonged to.

“I came up to Balmoral with Morgana quite a lot when we were teenagers,” Arthur said as they walked towards the white building. “I used to hide out here when she was in one of her moods.”

Merlin laughed. “And I suppose you were never in a mood?”

“Of course not,” Arthur shrugged with a laugh. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and retrieved a set of keys. Finding the correct one easily amongst the bundle proved to Merlin that Arthur had indeed been here many times before.

Merlin followed Arthur into the building, immediately struck by how his magic tingled slightly – not in warning, but with something warm and indefinable.

Arthur was grinning again as he looked around their surroundings. “I’m going to renovate properly one day. This was the best I could do as a teenager.” He waved at the faded film posters on the wall, and the beanbag and blankets thrown in one corner surrounded by books and, wholly unsurprisingly, a few empty Maltesers packets.

“I’ll make it brilliant, Merlin,” Arthur’s eyes were shining. “We can come up here and hide from everything whenever it gets too much. Just leave London and disappear for a while.”

“London?” Merlin asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Arthur shrugged. “That’s fairly non-negotiable, I’m afraid. Future King.” He pointed to himself and Merlin laughed.

Merlin felt his cheeks begin to heat up again when Arthur just kept looking at him, barely blinking. “Arthur?”

Merlin’s voice seemed to be the cu e Arthur was waiting for. He surged forward, hands gripping Merlin’s face tightly as he pushed him backwards. As Merlin’s back hit the wall Arthur stopped a fraction from Merlin’s lips. His eyes searched Merlin’s carefully.

Merlin gave an infinitesimal nod and closed his eyes. Arthur’s lips pressed against his, desperation evident in every swipe of his tongue. The Prince was trembling slightly and Merlin reached his right hand up to gently run his fingers along the nape of Arthur’s neck.

Arthur was clinging to Merlin like a drowning man, his hands fisting in the fabric of the wax jacket as he scrambled for purchase. Merlin pushed Arthur away, his hands going to the zip on Arthur’s coat before the Prince even had time to process his surprise at stumbling backwards.

Merlin tugged on the zip, pulling it down until he could push the material away from Arthur’s shoulders. Arthur reached out to mirror Merlin’s movements on the other jacket, navy fabric pooling around their feet as Arthur dipped his head to Merlin’s neck, nipping lightly at his jawline .

Merlin’s fingers grasped the hem of Arthur’s t-shirt and pulled it up over Arthur’s head at the same time as his jumper, leaving the Prince’s hair sticking up at angles. He ran his hands over Arthur’s shoulders, ghosting his fingers down over Arthur’s ribcage as the Prince mumbled nonsense into Merlin’s mouth.

Arthur’s fingers fumbled over the buttons on Merlin’s shirt. “Fuck, Merlin,” Arthur whispered with a slight smile. “Why is today the day you choose to wear something with  _buttons_?”

“Can’t make it too easy for you,” Merlin laughed, trailing butterfly kisses over Arthur’s cheeks as Arthur continued to struggle with the buttons.

“Oh, f uck it,” Arthur muttered yanking the fabric of the shirt roughly so that the final few buttons popped off, scattering across the old wooden floor. “Don’t say anything. I’ll buy you a new shirt.”

“Shut up, Arthur,” Merlin muttered, pulling Arthur back up to briefly capture his lips once more before Arthur awkwardly pulled Merlin’s long-sleeved t-shirt off as well, their hands getting tangled somewhere above Merlin’s head.

The two of them were gasping with laughter when Arthur pulled Merlin down to sprawl on top of him on the pile of blankets.

“It’s bloody freezing in here, Arthur,” Merlin laughed, his breath condensing in a white cloud before his very eyes.

“We can’t have that,” Arthur replied.

Merlin smiled softly as he studied Arthur; for lack of a better description, the Prince looked thoroughly debau ched. “God, I love you, Arthur.”

Arthur’s smile grew, his eyes sparkling as he ran a gentle hand down Merlin’s neck to rest it over his heart. “I love you too. More than you even realise.”

Merlin’s heart fluttered and he wanted nothing more than to tell Arthur about his magic. Now, before this went any further. “Arthur, I-“

“Anything, Merlin,” Arthur whispered against his lips. “Whatever you want, you can have. I would give you everything I own and never ask you for anything.”

And then,  _right in that moment_ , Merlin lost sight of the need to tell Arthur about his magic. He lost sight of everything but the boy in front of him, pulling him close and refusing to let him go.

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin knew he was staring at Arthur across the Library, a sloppy smile telling the world everything they needed to know. Snatches of wandering hands and a memory of warm skin cooling in the darkening boathouse mingling with breathless sighs running through his mind as he leaned his lips against the back of his hand.

Arthur looked up from where he was staring at a blank piece of paper on the table in front of him. “Stop staring at me.” He looked over and grinned at Merlin, his eyes crinkling.

Merlin’s smile grew behind his hand.

Arthur continued to smile as he nodded, looking like he’d made a decision. “Merlin, I want to say something and I just want you to listen.”

Merlin frowned slightly but shrugged his agreement.

“I want to tell my father about us.” He nodded again and held up a hand. “No, please just listen.  _You_  don’t want to keep this a secret.  _I_  don’t want to keep this a secret. It’s making more than just  _our_  lives difficult. I want to tell him after Christmas. I don’t want to keep you a secret anymore, Merlin. You deserve better than this. Do you trust me enough to stand by me?”

Merlin stared at Arthur, the conviction clear on the Prince’s face. There was never any question about how Merlin would respond when Arthur was certain of his decision. He smiled for Arthur, for everything that this decision meant to both of them, to their future. “Yes.”

* * *

Merlin sighed. “Is it lunchtime yet?”

“Oh, I only have two or three questions left.” Morgause smiled, more pleasantly than Merlin had seen all day. Or ever, in fact.

“Really?” Merlin couldn’t help asking as he frowned.

“Oh yes,” Morgause nodded. “So why don’t we rush through them as quickly as possible. Then you can be on your way.”

Merlin recoiled slightly in surprise at her change of tone. “O…Okay.”

“So let’s move on to last Christmas, shall we?”


	31. Chapter 31

“You attended the switch-on of the Oxford Street Christmas Lights with the Prince?”

“I did,” Merlin replied. “Alongside Princess Morgana, Lady Elena and the Duke of Orkney.”

“Were you pleased to see Prince Arthur back in England?”

“Of course I was.”

Morgause smiled again. “Of  _course_  you were.”

* * *

Arthur grumbled to himself as he leaned back against the wall.

Merlin stifled a grin; Arthur’s grumpy expression was completely at odds with the air of festivity around him. They were standing just inside the main entrance to Selfridges on Oxford Street, leeching as much warmth from the heating grates blowing hot air down on top of them as possible. Morgana had gone in search of the promised mulled wine, and Elena and Gwaine were openly laughing at the Prince’s grumbling. Leon and Elyan were pretending they weren’t amused.

“Come on, Princess, cheer up,” Gwaine smirked as Arthur glared at him. “You’re about to have about thirty thousand people screaming about how much they love you…or fancy your arse…or at least, your crown.”

“Haha,” Arthur snapped, folding his arms.

“Arthur,” Elena said soothin gly, just about holding back a smile, “you only have to smile nicely for a few minutes and press a button. It’s not hard and they’ve waited an extra three weeks for this just so you could be here.”

Arthur scowled slightly. “I forgot my gloves.”

Merlin laughed loudly. “Is that what’s wrong with you? You’re angry about getting cold fingers?”

“ _You_  don’t have to go and stand out there,” Arthur glared at the back of the stage that had been set up outside, shielding them all from the curious gaze of the public. “It’s fucking arctic.”

Merlin had to admit it was freezing. The snow had set in a couple of hours earlier and the flakes were steadily increasing in size and volume. But it was Christmas and Arthur was standing next to him, Merlin couldn’t find any reason to complain. He pulled off his gloves, the ones Arthur and Morg ana had given to him almost a year before, and handed them to the Prince with a smile. “Massive. Girl.”

Arthur shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin. I’m not taking your gloves off you. You’re always cold enough as it is; you’ll probably drop dead with instant hypothermia.”

“Arthur,” Merlin rolled his eyes. “Take them and shut up.”

Arthur glowered and protested noisily when Merlin grabbed his hands and tried to manipulate his fingers into shapes that would accept the soft wool, shapes that Arthur’s fingers weren’t designed to make.

“Christ,  _ow_! Fucking hell,  _Mer_ lin,” Arthur wrenched his right hand away from Merlin and shook it frantically. “Are you trying to break my fingers?”

Merlin just rolled his eyes once more and tried to grab Arthur’s hands again. “Stop being a s tubborn prat.”

Arthur managed to clasp his fingers tightly around Merlin’s wrists to stop him. “Merlin!”

Merlin glared and took a step closer to Arthur as he grasped awkwardly at Arthur’s sleeve, their noses almost touching. “ _Take. The. Gloves._ ”

Gwaine cleared his throat. Merlin and Arthur turned to catch his smirk as Elena, in evident amusement, dropped her gaze to where the two boys were holding onto each other and then back up their faces as she arched one eyebrow.

“Well…” Elena grinned. “That successfully answers quite a few questions I’d been saving up for later this evening.”

Arthur coughed and released his grip. He took the gloves from where they were now hanging limply from Merlin’s fingers. “Thank you, Merlin,” he was trying very hard to employ the tone of voice he usually reserved f or meetings with foreign dignitaries as he pulled the gloves on. “That’s very kind of you.”

Merlin looked at the floor and pursed his lips.  _Don’t blush, don’t blush._

Elena threw her head back and guffawed loudly, her hand coming up to cover her mouth.

Morgana appeared from inside the shop carrying a tray of mulled wine and mince pies.

“Let me take that,” Leon took the tray from her after he opened the door to let her in.

“Thank you, Leon,” she smiled, before turning to glare at Arthur. “At least someone is a  _gentleman_.”

“Hey,” Arthur protested, his embarrassment forgotten. “Merlin and Gwaine are here too. And Elyan!”

Morgana narrowed her eyes. “Yes, but I wouldn’t trust Gwaine to carry a tray full of alcohol.” Gwaine shrug ged one shoulder in agreement. “Elyan’s watching out for the stage manager. And I love Merlin, so…”

Arthur set his jaw and shook his head.

Morgana’s eyes widened. “Arthur! Have you stolen Merlin’s gloves?”

“No!” Arthur protested. “I forgot mine…and he offered them.”

“Arthur,” Morgana tapped her foot on the floor as Leon began offering the tray of goodies to everyone, “you’re in a  _department store_.”

A blast of cold air assaulted them as the door from the street opened, a man with a clipboard gesturing at Arthur, but ducking his head in respect. “Could you follow me, Your Highness?”

Arthur glared at everyone before following the stage manager outside, Leon keeping close as they walked towards the stage.

“I say we go out and sup port the Princess from the side of the stage,” Gwaine grinned as he stuffed another mince pie in his mouth. “And by support I mean mock mercilessly, obviously.”

Morgana snorted and momentarily set her mulled wine down by her feet so she could turn up the collar of her coat around her ears. “Come on then.” She grinned at Merlin and pulled him outside before he could protest, warm wine sloshing onto his fingers as his glass tilted precariously.

Morgana only had to smile at the stage manager before she had him practically bowing before her to allow them all to clamber up the steps at the side of the stage.

Arthur, confident smile firmly in place, was waving at the crowd from the far side of the stage while a Radio DJ Merlin couldn’t remember the name of rambled to the crowd about how honoured he was to be sharing the stage with the Prince of Wales. Merlin gripped his drink tighter as his fingers began to numb.

Arthur spotted his friends a couple of seconds after they appeared; they were tucked far enough away that it would be impossible for the crowd to see them, at least Merlin hoped that was the case when he saw the rude gestures Gwaine was making for Arthur’s benefit. The Prince’s smile slipped for the barest of seconds, but Merlin knew Arthur was going to kill them all when this was over.

The DJ ( _Maybe he was called Alex?_  Merlin thought. _No. Andy? Phil?_ ) oblivious to Arthur’s annoyance welcomed the Prince to the microphone t in order to address his audience.

“Good evening,” Arthur’s Colin Firth voice firmly in place - charming with just a  _hint_ of awkwardness. “Thank you all for coming out on such a cold night. The donations made by the sponsors of this year’s Christmas Lights will make an enormous difference to a numbe r of charities over the coming year. I would like you all to join me in thanking them wholeheartedly for their support.”

The crowd cheered, the Prince smiled smiled and Merlin leaned slightly against Morgana as he grinned at the sight of Arthur relaxing into his short speech.

“Oh, Merlin,” Morgana said with a fond roll of her eyes as Arthur gave a few facts about the charities they had helped already. It didn’t stop her from putting her arm around his waist and pulling him close though. “The pair of you are hopeless. If I didn’t adore you both so much I’d want to throw up at how disgustingly happy you are.”

Merlin snorted and squeezed Morgana back.

“Two thousand and twelve is fast approaching,” Arthur continued, “and it will be a year of change and growth for many of us.”

Arthur paused and Merlin couldn’t s top the involuntary hitch in his chest at the underlying meaning of those words.

Arthur smiled once more. “I wish you and your families a very Happy Christmas and a prosperous New Year.”

The crowd cheered, a number of wolf-whistles breaking through over the general hum of approval and Arthur blushed slightly. Alex/Andy/Phil saved him from further embarrassment by asking him to prepare to press the large silver button that would switch on the lights for the first time.

“Five!” The crowd roared as the countdown clock started.

“Four!” Morgana grinned at Merlin.

“Three!” Morgana stopped grinning at Merlin and started gaping at Elena and Gwaine who were kissing enthusiastically a few feet away.

“Two!” Merlin joined in the gaping.

“One!” The crowd cheered. T he lights didn’t come on expected as Arthur became the third person to be stunned by the display at the side of the stage. Alex/Andy/Phil nudged him quickly and Arthur pressed the button without looking away from his friends.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” Alex/Andy/Phil called to the celebrating crowd. “Please put your hands together for His Royal Highness, The Prince of Wales!”

Arthur somehow managed to simultaneously wave at the crowd and stumble off stage to join Merlin and Morgana in shooting scandalised looks at a grinning Gwaine and Elena.

“What the  _fuck_  are you two doing?” Morgana breathed.

“It’s Christmas, Morgana,” Gwaine smiled lazily. “You can’t say things like that.”

Morgana glowered. “Alright, what in the  _festive fuck_  are you two doing?”

Elena blushe d slightly and looked at her feet, but Merlin noticed she didn’t remove her hand from Gwaine’s.

“There was mistletoe. I’m a man of opportunity.” Gwaine grinned at Arthur and Merlin. “You two should see it as a Christmas present,” he said as he made to walk down the stairs, the obnoxiously loud Christmas music almost drowning him out. “It might put an end to certain rumours.”

“And maybe this isn’t quite the place to be discussing this?” Morgana shot them all a meaningful ‘smile’. “Can we leave please?”

“Course,” Gwaine smirked before looking at Arthur. “Couldn’t let you be the only one with a secret, could I Princess?”

 

**ooOOoo**

“Elena and Gwaine.” Arthur muttered as he sprawled on top of the bed. Elena. And. Gwaine. Elena…and Gwaine?”

“Yes, Arthur,” Merlin laughed as he pushed Arthur over so he could crawl under the duvet. “I think the outcome remains the same, no matter how many different ways you say it.”

“And you’re sure you didn’t know anything about it?” Arthur asked, as he shuffled around so he could wriggle under the duvet without getting off the bed.

“Positive,” Merlin replied then frowned. “I know you  _said_  you were happy for both of them, but are you really?”

“Yes,” Arthur sighed. “I’d rather not have to admit that, considering this is  _Gwaine_  we’re talking about, but Elena looks happier than I’ve seen her in years. I was starting to wonder why she suddenly perked up about a month a go.”

“What’s going to happen when your father finds out?” Merlin asked, lifting his head up so Arthur could slide his arm underneath it.

Arthur snorted. “He’ll still think there’s every chance that I’ll eventually propose to Elena. That Gwaine will just bugger off if I declare my own, obviously superior, intentions.”

“That probably wouldn’t deter Gwaine in the slightest,” Merlin grinned and began tracing a pattern on Arthur’s t-shirt.

Arthur laced his fingers through Merlin’s. “I wish you were coming to Sandy again.”

“I don’t!” Merlin laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more terrified as I was in those three days.”

“I was a total arse, wasn’t I?” Arthur was staring up at the ceiling, curling his arm at the elbow to run his fingers through Merlin’ s hair.

“Yes,” Merlin agreed, but kissed Arthur’s shoulder. “But it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I didn’t know what to say to you,” Arthur laughed. “One minute I didn’t know you at all, and then suddenly you were just… _there_ , as if you were always supposed to be by my side.”

“I was,” Merlin said with quiet conviction. “I  _am_.”

“I was a bit of a prat without you, Merlin,” Arthur smiled, the self-deprecation evident. “But I also didn’t spout mushy nonsense…so swings and roundabouts, I guess.”

“You’re still a prat,” Merlin laughed as he tilted Arthur’s chin slightly so he could kiss him.

Arthur responded by rolling over so that he was resting his weight on top of Merlin.

“Ow,” Merlin laughed with a gasp. “I can’t actually breathe when you do that.” Arthur raised himself slightly onto his elbows and Merlin made a show of taking in a deep breath. “You know, I think  _Hello_  might have been on to something about the pastries!”

“Idiot,” Arthur said fondly as he leaned down to press a kiss to Merlin’s nose, before catching his bottom lip lightly between his teeth. Merlin sucked in a gasp and Arthur took advantage of parted lips to teasingly run his tongue along Merlin’s bottom teeth.

Merlin dropped his hands to Arthur’s waist and pressed his thumbs against his hipbones, grinning as Arthur jerked backwards slightly at the sudden touch. Arthur narrowed his eyes slightly before reclaiming Merlin’s lips and deepening the kiss.

With one final press of his thumbs Merlin traced his fingers around to Arthur’s back, snagging the hem of his t-shirt enough to begin drawing it up Arthur’s back. Arthur resisted for a moment, before allowing Merlin to break the kiss for the briefest of moments to pull the offending garment over his head and toss it unceremoniously on the floor.

Arthur eventually turned his attentions to Merlin’s neck, rediscovering the sensitive spot above his collarbone that he’d first found the night after the Varsity polo. Merlin whimpered softly as Arthur dragged his teeth lightly over the skin, before gently pressing his lips to it. He grinned as he felt Merlin shiver beneath him.

“Now,” Arthur grinned, “I don’t think it’s particularly fair that I’m the Prince and you have more clothes on than me.”

Merlin laughed as Arthur leaned back and began pushing Merlin’s t-shirt up towards his chest. He paused halfway and Merlin flinched when a trail of soft, tickling kisses pressed across his stomach, Arthur nosing his way up Merlin ’s chest, the material being nudged upwards with excruciating slowness as Arthur’s right hand ran up his side.

A sigh of relief escaped Merlin’s lips when his t-shirt eventually joined Arthur’s somewhere on the floor. He looked up at Arthur and smiled when he saw the unbarred affection in his eyes, a slight hint of self-consciousness framing his features.

“What?” Arthur frowned slightly.

“Nothing,” Merlin replied, biting back the barrage of embarrassingly sentimental words threatening to burst from his lips.

Arthur shook his head. “Clotpole.”

Merlin laughed loudly. “Do-“

Merlin’s retort was cut off as the door to the bedroom flew open violently, swinging back with sufficient force that the handle slammed into the wall, crumpling paint and plaster billowing to the carpet in its w ake.

“What the fuck?” Arthur threw himself off the bed as further slamming sounds and surprised voices echoed through the palace.

Merlin felt the blood drain from his face as his magic squeezed at his heart. The hairs on the back of his neck rose and he stilled, feeling a presence somewhere behind him. He turned slowly, but there was nothing there.

Arthur was scrambling to pull his t-shirt back on as Leon burst into the room. “Christ, Arthur, are you both okay?”

“Leon, what the hell’s going on?” Arthur asked.

Merlin forced himself to move, retrieving his t-shirt and throwing it over his head.  _Fuck, fuck, fuck_.  _Think, Emrys, **think**._  The sound of glass shattering somewhere within the Palace pulled Merlin back to the present.

“Arthur, we need to get you out of here!” Leon was saying. “You and Morgana need to leave – Owain will drive you both to The Mall.”

“Don’t just stand there, Merlin,” Arthur called, flinching as another down sprang open down the hall. “Come on!”

“Arthur!” Leon grabbed his wrist. “Only you and Morgana are authorised to go to Clarence House. I'll make sure M-”

“If you think I’m going anywhere without Merlin you’ve got another fucking thing coming, Leon,” Arthur snarled, wrenching his arm back and grabbing at Merlin’s hand.

Leon ran a hand across his face, but didn’t disagree. “Hurry up.”

Merlin found himself being pulled down the corridor, Arthur matching Leon’s rapid pace as they hurtled down a back staircase Merlin had never seen before.

Leon pushed open a door and the three of them barrelled out into the cold night. Merlin didn’t have time to wince as the gravel of the driveway cut into the soles of his feet before Arthur pulled him into an awaiting car, the door slamming behind him. He was still half sprawled on top of the Prince when Leon jumped into the passenger seat and the car sped through the gates away from the Palace.

Merlin sat up, frowning as he noticed Morgana pressed against the window on the other side of Arthur. “Morgana?”

The Princess was paler than Merlin had ever seen her. Her eyes were wide and she was worrying her hands together, over and over until Arthur reached out to still her. She flinched the moment her brother touched her hand, a small whimper of fear escaping her lips. That seemed to unleash the dam, because suddenly Morgana had buried her head into Arthur’s chest, his arms immediately going round her as he whispered into her hair.

Merlin’ s heart was still hammering in his chest when he heard the voice.

**_Emrys?_ **

Merlin jerked backwards, his head connecting with the window. That wasn’t the Dragon. Definitely not the Dragon, unless the Dragon had transformed into a woman.

 ** _Emrys_** ,  ** _I don’t appreciate being ignored._**

Merlin clutched at the door as the car swerved quickly around the corner onto the main road.

**_EMRYS!_ **

Merlin clutched his skill, the woman’s voice filling his mind and threatening to overtake his senses. He felt pressure building in his chest, as though a coil was being tightened beyond its natural torsion.

**_Just answer me Emrys and all this will stop._ **

Merlin felt his heart stutter and his hands lowered to claw at his t-shirt as if he could latch onto the crushing weight that felt as though it wanted to compress him into the earth below and pull it from himself.

_Merlin?_

_**Emrys!** _

_Merlin!_

Merlin gasped, his hands reaching up further to clutch at his throat.  _What do you want?_

“Merlin!”

Merlin sagged as the weight disappeared and he realised Arthur was shouting at him frantically. He blinked to clear his head, his throat still feeling tight, though no longer as though he was being choked by invisible hands.

“Merlin!” Arthur was shaking him now, his hands reaching up to clutch Merlin’s face.

“I’m okay,” Merlin wheezed, desperate, despite his fear, to wipe the look of terror from Arthur’s face. Morgana was sobbing openly behind her brother now as she too stared in horror at Merlin. “What…” he gasped. “Whatever it was is gone.”

Leon was yelling at Elyan to drive faster and Merlin had never felt less in control of his emotions. The world of order and protocol he’d come to know seemed to be disintegrating around him.

Arthur didn’t let go of Merlin until they drove through the open gates of Clarence House, but he didn’t say a word.

Merlin started in surprise when Arthur released him. Not because of the loss of contact, but because he finally received an answer to his question.

_**Confirmation, Emrys. I wanted confirmation.** _

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin tightened his fingers around the cup of tea that had been shoved into his hand almost immediately upon arrival. It was as though the staff at Clarence House were trying to live up to the old British adage of ‘a cup of tea solves everything.’

Morgana was staring listlessly into the fireplace, having been careful to allow as much space as possible between her and the two boys. Arthur kept shooting her worried looks, when he wasn’t bestowing the same concern on Merlin.

“What do you think it was?” Arthur asked, his voice sounding far too loud even though it was barely a mutter.

Merlin swallowed harshly and gave the only answer he could. “Magic.”

Arthur bowed his head with a small nod. He’d already guessed it was magic, Merlin was sure of that. What else  _could_  it have been?

A soft knock at the door startled all of them, and Merlin’s heart broke at how fragile Morgana looked as she jumped in fright. It was Leon.

“Arthur,” he said, his eyes taking in the three, weary occupants of the room, “your father is making his way back from Luxembourg, he’ll be here in a couple of hours. He’s asked that you meet with his Advisory Committee before his arrival in order for them to brief you on the situation at Kensington.”

“What about Morgana and Merlin?” Arthur asked.

“As Merlin was… _affected_ in some way,” Leon replied carefully, “your father has requested that a member of the committee interview Merlin and aim to find out what happened. I believe the man he has chosen is a specialist in detecting magic. He'll look for any residual traces.”

If Merlin hadn’t been sitting down, he would have collapsed into the chair at that. A man who could detect  _magic_? Oh bloody hell, not now, not  _yet_. “I’m fine,” he managed to whisper, ignoring Arthur’s concerned frown. “Whatever it was is gone, like I said. There’s no magic for him to find.”

“Even so,” Leon said, raising his hands in placation, “it is the King’s wish.”

“And Morgana?” Arthur looked at his sister who, in turn, was staring at Merlin with something akin to terror on her face.

“The King has asked me to explain about magic,” Leon shifted uncomfortably. “As you know, I already took the liberty of doing that in the past.”

“For which I am grateful, Leon,” Arthur replied with a nod. “It has been much better for Morgana to be aware of the danger magic poses.”

Morgana made a strangled sound and Arthur’s frown deepened as he stepp ed closer to her.

“Leon,” the Prince continued when Morgana flinched away from his touch, “I trust that you will remain with my sister while I meet with the Council.”

“Of course,” Leon ducked his head. “If you follow me to the Chambers I’ll return here immediately. I’ll have Owain show Merlin where to go when they’re ready for him.”

Arthur nodded again. “It will be okay, Morgana,” he said softly. “I promise no harm will ever come to you.”

Morgana only sobbed in reply, but nodded behind the screen of her hands.

Arthur looked at Merlin for a long moment. “If  _anyone_  tries to get you to leave, for whatever reason, tell them they’ll have me to deal with.”

“I  _can_  look after myself, Arthur,” Merlin replied, trying to invoke conviction he didn’t really feel at that moment. His mind was still reeling from discovering he was about to face the most serious threat to his secret yet.

“I’m fully aware of that, Merlin,” Arthur said, no hint of a smile. “But there are people in this building whom I have never trusted. This is  _not_  the place I’d choose for you to be alone.”

Merlin shivered at Arthur’s words.

“I want Owain with you at all times,” Arthur reached out a hand for Merlin to take, drawing him to his feet. “Just trust me, Merlin.”

Merlin nodded mutely as Arthur leaned closer, his lips pressing softly against Merlin’s.

“I love you,” Merlin managed to choke out eventually, ignoring the fact Morgana and Leon were in earshot. A sense of dread was settling in his bones every second longer he remained in this building and he suddenly felt a hint of the consequences of not telling Arthur about his magic; it was like the crushing weight from the car, but it wrapped itself around his heart until he felt he might suffocate.

“It will be okay,” Arthur said, gently running his fingers down Merlin’s cheek. “I promise.” He gave him a final smile and followed Leon from the room.

“Oh God,  _Merlin_ ,” Morgana scrabbled to her feet and stumbled towards Merlin. She grasped his shoulders. “You need to get out of here.”

“I can’t just leave, Morgana,” Merlin replied, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Fuck, what am I going to do?”

“What happened at Kensington…” Morgana trailed off. She took a deep breath and Merlin could feel she was trembling. “It was me.”

“What do you mean?” Merlin’s brows knit in confusion.

“I wa s having a nightmare.” She gulped, her shaking increasing noticeably. “I dreamt of a battle. Everyone died, Merlin.  _Everyone_. I woke up screaming and the mirror in my room shattered. Then the doors all started opening, and I….I couldn’t stop it.”

“Morgana, it’s not your fault,” Merlin tried to catch her eyes but her gaze was darting past him.

“I swear to you Merlin, that what happened to you in the car wasn’t me. I would never hurt you, Merlin. Please believe me.”

“I know, Morgana,” he sighed as she allowed herself to be embraced. “I know.”

They stood together in silence for a long time; Merlin rubbing soothing circles on Morgana’s back as she clung to him until Leon’s return shattering the bubble of sanctuary they’d managed to create.

“Merlin, Owain will show you where to go,” Leon s aid as Merlin gently untangled himself from a slightly steadier Morgana.

“Thank you, Leon,” Merlin gave him a small smile before turning back to Morgana. “I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

It was only as Merlin followed Owain down a sparse, white corridor that he suddenly felt like he wasn’t in any position to make that promise.

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin had been waiting in the small office (Owain lurking in the corner) for nearly fifteen minutes when the door finally opened. He nearly choked in surprise when he saw who entered.

“Merlin,” Mordred smiled.

“You?” Merlin breathed. “ _You’re_  the magic finder?”

Mordred frowned. “Sorry?”

“What?”

Mordred shifted awkwardly under Merlin’s intense stare. “I was called in by Annis, apparently something happened between the Duke of Orkney and Lady Astolat?”

Merlin frowned;  _God_  had that only been a few hours ago?

“Anyway,” Mordred frowned, “they told me you were here and I thought you might like a coffee considering it’s nearly four in the morning. I’m the youngest on the team s o drink duty’s become my speciality.”

Merlin stared at Mordred for a moment longer. “You want to know if I want coffee?”

“Yes,” Mordred replied slowly.

A slightly hysterical laugh bubbled from Merlin’s mouth. “Sorry, Mordred.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “It’s just been and interesting evening. I’m waiting to speak to someone. But no to the coffee, thank you.”

“Oh, are you waiting for Mr Aredian? I saw him a few minutes ago, he won’t be long.” Mordred smiled again. “If you change your mind about the coffee, just ask Owain to come and find me.” He ducked out of the door with a small wave.

 _Aredian_ , Merlin’s mind was spinning the name around feeling as though there should be something about that name that he recognised; but that  _something_  appeared to be just out of reach . He looked down at the ring he was still wearing on his thumb, carefully turning it around and making a mental note to give it back to Arthur before the King arrived.

“Ah. Mr Emrys.”

Merlin’s head snapped up at the greeting. A tall man, dressed head to toe in black, was eyeing him coldly from the door. Merlin stood and nodded.

The man held his hand out for Merlin to shake. “Luther Aredian. Please, have a seat.”

 ** _Merlin_**.

Merlin tried to contain his flinch as the Dragon whispered in his mind. Aredian’s gaze was calculating as he took the seat on the other side of the desk.

**_Aredian cannot detect your magic, but I fear he colludes with someone who can._ **

Merlin schooled his face into something he hoped approximated tired confusion. Why was the Dragon suddenly contacting him like this?

“Why don’t you tell me what happened, Mr Emrys?” Aredian’s cool gaze didn’t waver. “And I can ascertain if there is any lingering… _threat_.”

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin stumbled slightly as he left Aredian’s office and Owain grabbed him quickly to keep him upright.

“Are you alright, Merlin?” The bodyguard asked in concern.

Merlin nodded silently. He wasn’t alright, not by a long stretch. Aredian had asked him to explain what had happened in the car – Merlin hadn’t mentioned the voice in his head, instead just claiming that he’d been overcome by a sense of suffocation. Then Aredian had made him go through the story over and over and  _over_  again until Owain had finally stepped in and suggested that Merlin should probably get some rest.

“That was quite… _intense_ ,” Owain said as they rounded the corridor, the room where Merlin hoped Arthur had returned to finally in sight.

“Yeah..,” Merlin sighed. “Thank you for getting me out of her e.”

“Not at all,” Owain smiled quickly, “Arthur would have my head if you collapsed in a heap.”

Merlin laughed lightly, but not feeling any better. He turned the handle and pushed open the door to see Morgana fast asleep on the sofa, her head resting against an awkward-looking Leon’s shoulder.

Arthur was standing just inside the door, having clearly just arrived back if the arch of his eyebrow towards his bodyguard was any indication. “Merlin,” he whispered, looking inexplicably relieved as the other boy smiled softly at him. “Are you alright?”

Merlin nodded quickly. “What did the Council say?”

“They believe that the Palace was attacked by a magic user,” Arthur replied. “It seems the threat has only increased. We can’t go back to Kensington until they have ascertained the exact circumstances of what h appened.”

“You have to stay here?”

“No,” Arthur shook his head. “ _We_  have to stay here. And then in the morning, the  _actual_  morning, we all have to go to Buckingham Palace to meet my father.”

Merlin almost rolled his eyes in disbelief. “Are you trying to give me a tour of every building you own to impress me?” he asked before he could stop himself.

Arthur looked momentarily delighted and Merlin felt his heart unclench a little. “It’s not my ideal location,” the Prince replied eventually. “But as my father has chosen to keep it as his residence until he travels to Sandringham next week it is where we must go. A few, key Council members will be joining us as they will be discussing methods to ensure my security at Albion, and I have requested that you receive the same protection, as you were targeted tonight.”

Merlin gulped, his stomach rolling at the thought of the meeting. “Will Luther Aredian be there?”

“Yes,” Arthur frowned. “I believe he will be. Why? What happened in your meeting?”

“Nothing,” Merlin shook his head, “nothing. He’s just quite… _severe_.”

Arthur smiled slightly. “Nothing we can’t handle, I’m sure. Now, I’d actually like to get some sleep this evening so Owain can you please go and unlock the apartments?”

“Of course, Arthur.” Owain nodded and left to complete his task.

“We’ll be safe in there,” Arthur said squeezing Merlin’s shoulder quickly. “And it’s cut off from the offices so there’s no chance of…you know.”

_Having our secret relationship being discovered by people who would make our lives a misery if t hey knew._

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, Leon,” Arthur turned around and looked at his sheepish bodyguard. “I’m sure we can talk tomorrow about why my sister is draped all over you.”

 _“Arthur_ ,” Merlin warned in a growl. “Don’t be a prat.”

“Come on,” Arthur replied, ignoring Merlin completely. “We should all try and get some sleep. If you thought Aredian was severe, Merlin, wait until you meet the Chair.”

“Oh?” replied Merlin, the now-familiar feeling of dread sweeping through him once more. “Why?”

“Because Cara Nimueh is one of the scariest women I’ve ever met.”

* * *

“Why were you at Buckingham Palace in December, Merlin?” Morgause asked.

Merlin stilled. How did she know about Buckingham Palace? There was  _no way_  she could have known. He shook his head, attempting a look of confusion. “I wasn’t at Buckingham Palace.”

“Oh,” Morgause looked disbelieving. “My mistake.”


	32. Chapter 32

Merlin shrugged. “You must have me confused with someone else.”

Morgause continued to look at him as if preparing to pounce.

* * *

“I’m not wearing that,” Merlin’s reflection locked eyes with Arthur.

“ _This_ ,” Arthur replied, brandishing a horribly expensive blazer as Merlin turned away from the mirror, “will stop you freezing to death in my father’s study.”

“Did you really have to send someone out to buy me clothes at the crack of dawn?” Merlin grimaced. He was tired and his head ached, not to mention he was constantly fighting against a rush of nausea whenever he thought about Uther’s Council. But he held out his hand to accept the jacket anyway – he didn’t actually want to start an argument with Arthur over something as trivial as clothing. Not today.

“As much as  _I_  like the just tumbled out of bed look, Merlin,” Arthur smirked slightly, “I’m not sure my father would feel  _quite_ the same about y our pyjamas.”

Merlin grumbled as he tugged the blazer and turned back to the mirror to straighten the collar of his shirt. He caught sight of the ring on his thumb and sighed before he pulled it off. “Here,” he said to Arthur as he held it out to him, “I don’t think your father would approve of me wearing this either.”

Arthur picked up the ring, making a fist around the warmed gold. He was silent for a long moment, before he put the ring on his own thumb and looked back up at Merlin. “I’m telling him as soon as he gets back from Copenhagen in January.”

Merlin’s stomach churned. “Arthur,” he forced himself to look away from the Prince’s hopeful face, knowing he couldn’t say this otherwise, “before you say anything to your father…there’s something I have to tell you.”

Arthur smiled slightly with a shrug. “Merlin, don’t look so worried. I am sure there is  _nothing_  you could tell me that would surprise me at this stage.”

Merlin bit his lip and stared at his shoes. “I wouldn’t count on that, Arthur.”

Arthur cupped Merlin’s chin with his hand and raised it until their eyes locked. “Merlin…” he trailed off, searching Merlin’s face for a hint to what was troubling him. “What is it?”

Merlin took a deep breath. It no longer mattered that he was in a building full of people who would react against any perceived threat to their Prince; it didn’t even matter that the King had assembled a group of individuals whose purpose was to destroy that which was the foundation of Merlin’s existence. Arthur  _deserved_  to know and Merlin felt utterly certain that this was his last chance. He’d wasted opportunities before, and the universe wasn’t going to grant him another reprieve.

But the three words that made up his secret, the words that had been carefully imprisoned next to his heart for most of his life, were unwilling to form on Merlin’s lips. He couldn’t just blurt this secret out without any preamble. Arthur deserved the truth, yes, but the fear of losing him through a misplaced word seized Merlin’s courage, throttling his nerve.

“Arthur, do you truly believe that all magic is as evil as your father says it is?” Merlin was surprised he managed to phrase the question, as his mouth had gone dry, catching his tongue as he tried to form syllables.

Arthur frowned with a slight shake of his head. “Merlin, I know you have a tendency to circumvent your actual point with unnecessary amounts of verbal… _flailing_ , but that’s a poor deflection, even from you.”

“What?” Merlin twitched, causing him to step back slightly.

The tiny smile that Merlin had come to adore, the one that barely lifted the left corner of Arthur’s lips, appeared on the Prince’s face. “My father’s stance on magic has no bearing on you or I, so why don’t you tell me what’s really wrong.” He moved his hand from Merlin’s jaw line to the back of his neck, gently running the pad of his thumb along the soft skin behind Merlin’s ear.

“Arthur.” Leon’s voice accompanied a short knock, the door opening without waiting for a reply. He averted his eyes from the intimate moment he’d interrupted as he said, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but your father has requested that we leave here now in order for him to speak to the Princess before the Council is called to session.”

“Can’t we follow on in a while?” Arthur frowned, gently untangling his fingers from the soft hair curling at Merlin’s nape.

“Your sister is refusing to leave here without you, Arthur,” Leon replied, worry evident in the set of his jaw. “Merlin too.”

If Arthur was surprised he didn’t say anything. He just looked at Merlin and shrugged apologetically. “Promise you’ll tell me later?”

Merlin nodded, trying to force his lips into a smile. “Of course.”

Arthur smiled encouragingly. “Right. I suppose we should go and find out how my father intends to keep us alive.” He squeezed Merlin’s hand quickly and

Merlin shut his eyes as Arthur turned to follow Leon out of the room. He had an awful feeling that there might not  _be_  a later.

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin was trying to ignore the fact that the King of England was shooting him inscrutable glances from the head of the table. He was also trying to ignore the fact that Arthur, sitting to the right of his father, was twirling his thumb ring through his fingers, a slight smile on his face as he watched the band glinting whenever it caught a stray ray of winter’s sunlight from the window. But mostly Merlin was trying to ignore the fact he was sitting in the King’s study in Buckingham Palace - the room he’d seen on television every Christmas Day for the last twenty years – waiting for the Advisory Council members with all the enthusiasm of a man about to face a firing squad. Morgana had retired to her childhood bedroom at Arthur’s request. The terror for her own safety  _and_  for Merlin’s that shone in her eyes was burned into Merlin’s mind forever. He still believed his magic was predominantly for Arthur's protection, but he was determined to do whatever he could to ensure the safety of Morgana as well.

The study door opened and Merlin was halfway to standing when, to his great surprise, Uther waved at him to sit down. He awkwardly lowered himself from his Quasimodo-esque stance back into his seat.

“Today we will not stand on ceremony.” Uther announced as Merlin stared at the polished tabletop, unwilling to look up for fear of catching Aredian’s eyes when he heard the scrape of chairs around the table. A floral scent, slightly cloying, invaded his nostrils as the chair to his right was claimed.

“We have much to discuss,” the King continued. “Ms Nimueh, if you would succinctly recount your findings regarding the attack on Kensington Palace last night.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

Merlin jerked, his foot slipping fro m where he’d had it curled behind the chair leg to strike the floor with a thud. A wave of prickling clamminess washed over his skin at the sound of the woman’s voice next to him. His head snapped up and he found himself being glared at by a stern-looking woman.

Uther cleared his throat loudly. The stare he fixed on Merlin would have turned him to stone if he’d had the mental capacity to process it. As it was, he already felt as though his body had shut down at the first syllables uttered by Cara Nimueh in the same voice as the one that had invaded his mind the night before. Her face didn’t show any sign of recognising Merlin though, her frown only deepening in annoyance, and he began to doubt his own initial reaction.

“Ms Nimueh?” Uther snapped as the Council Chair continued to frown at a gawping Merlin.

The woman gave the King an apologetic b ow of her head and turned away from Merlin. Aredian, seated next to Arthur, was practically smirking at Merlin. Arthur simply widened his eyes at Merlin in a way that suggested he thought his boyfriend was suffering from some kind of unfortunate mental affliction.

“It is clear that the attack on Kensington Palace last night was the work of a magic-user,” Cara Nimueh spoke in clipped tones. “The security system was not tampered with in any way from the outside, and it is clear that the attack came from  _inside_  the building.”

 _Fuck_ , Merlin yelled in his mind. Even if this woman wasn’t actuallythe voice in his head ( _and she couldn’t be. She just **couldn’t**  be. Because then she’d have magic….and…no._) she was correct about the source of the magic.

Arthur frowned. “Earlier this morning you surmised that the attack was probably a remot e one.”

“I did, Your Royal Highness,” Cara responded, respect clear in her tone. “However, I have since conducted further investigation at the Palace and there is now overwhelming evidence to suggest that the magic originated in the Princess Royal’s suite.”

Merlin and Arthur sucked in a gasp at the same time and their eyes met across the table. To any outsider they appeared to wear the same expressions of fear, but even though their root concern was for Morgana, each boy had a differing reason for the horror in their eyes. Arthur was clearly aghast at the thought of magic being performed so close to his sister without anyone being able to adequately protect her. But Merlin was terrified for what they would do to her, what even  _Uther_  would do, if it was discovered that Morgana herself had been the source of the magic.

“A member of the Household Staff?” Uther’s fac e twisted into a look of disgust.

“I do not believe so, Sire,” Cara replied. “All members of staff dealing directly with the Prince and Princess at Kensington were vetted thoroughly by Mr Aredian before employment. I believe it was an opportunist, Your Majesty. There were many deliveries made to the Palace this week – the sorcerer could have gained access then. Security will be increased immediately.”

“And what of the sorcery Merlin experienced in the car?” Arthur asked eventually, rubbing a hand over his chin.

“If I may answer that, Your Royal Highness?” Aredian was the one to speak, and Merlin could swear there was an underlying note of contempt in the man’s voice.

“Of course.” Arthur gestured in assent.

“I could find no lingering trace of magic on the boy by the time I interviewed him,” Aredian’s eye s hardened as they swept over Merlin. “It is clear from the symptoms he described, however, that he was indeed under the influence of powerful sorcery for a short time.”

“For what purpose?” Arthur’s expression was hard; protection and fury mingled together. Merlin silently begged him not to give anything away.

“That I do not know,” Aredian returned his glower to the Prince.

“What strategy do you have for improving Prince Arthur’s protection in Albion?” Uther asked, looking directly at Cara.

“My colleague, Doctor Edwin Muirden, has carried out an audit of the current arrangements,” Cara gestured at the third and final member of the Advisory Council, a hunched man who was worrying his fingertips along the tabletop. “The Prince’s team responded well in Paris, and their evacuation of Kensington Palace last night was timely, however Docto r Muirden believes this could be improved.”

“Well?” Uther gestured at the silent Muirden.

“Your Majesty,” Edwin ducked his head, an obsequious expression blooming on his face, “Prince Arthur has a number of excellent bodyguards, however, I believe he would benefit from a team leader with more experience.”

“Father-“

“Silence, Arthur.” Uther held up his hand. “Muirden?”

“I would recommend that Tobias Agravaine move temporarily from your service, Sire, to act as strategic leader of the Prince’s security in Albion. The current director would also remain in Prince Arthur’s service, but provide more of a support role.”

Merlin didn’t like this at all; the thought of anyone other than Leon being Arthur’s main protection against the outside world chilled him. And Agravaine? W hen had he ever demonstrated the skills necessary to protect the Crown Prince? He caught sight of Cara staring at him and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, a feeling of being observed by something powerful rushing through him in a way far too familiar to what he’d experienced in Arthur’s room the night before.

Arthur scowled, but squared his shoulders. “If this is to be the case, then I want Owain permanently assigned to Merlin.”

Merlin’s eyes widened. He knew Arthur had told Owain to keep an eye on him months ago, but to ask his father to make it official seemed a step too far.

“To Mr Emrys?” Cara quirked an eyebrow in surprise.

“Yes,” Arthur replied.

“I had intended to suggest one of the more junior members of the Household Team,” Cara waved her hand, “as that would be more appropriate f-“

“Owain goes with Merlin.” Arthur’s stare hardened, and it was obvious that he was avoiding looking at his father.

Merlin’s eyes widened as a shadow passed over the King’s face, his mouth setting in a grim line that was horrifyingly reminiscent of Arthur just before he threw a tantrum.

“Owain remains with you, Arthur,” Uther said sternly. “He has been trained to-“

“Father,” Arthur’s voice a strange mix of defiance and pleading, “I respectfully request that you allow Owain to take on the role of Merlin’s bodyguard. Surely it is not worth running the risk of Merlin falling under the influence of sorcery when he will then spend time in my presence.”

Merlin forgot all about the perceived threat of Cara Nimueh for one split second of focusing his entire energy on trying to telepathically shut Arthur up. The Prince had interrupted Uther.  _Uther_. Worse, Arthur had interrupted Uther to argue a point about  _Merlin._

Merlin gulped.  _I’m dead,_ he thought. _If Aredian doesn’t kill me, Uther will._

Uther was quiet for a long moment, a muscle under his eye twitching. Merlin felt himself backing into his chair slightly as the King’s eyes settled on him once more. “Very well,” he replied eventually, his face slipping back into the inscrutable expression of earlier. “Owain will be reassigned to protect your… _friend_.”

 _Oh bloody fucking hell on a bicycle!_ Merlin wanted to launch himself across the table and throttle Arthur for being such a protective prat. His irritation at Arthur cooled, however, when he noted the predatory smile just in the corner of Cara’s mouth. Her eyes seemed to darken as she held his gaze.

“Th ank you, Father,” Arthur bowed his head respectfully, before sending a quick glance at Merlin.

Merlin studiously ignored him and tried to make his mind focus. He might well be facing the wrath of Uther at some point soon, but none of that would matter if it turned out Cara Nimueh  _had_  been the voice in his head then they were all in far more danger than Merlin had realised.

* * *

“Well,” Morgause smiled. “I think that’s everything.”

Merlin jumped slightly in surprise. “I’m sorry?”

Morgause continued to beam at him. “That’s everything we need from you, I think.”

Merlin almost opened his mouth to protest before he realised what he was doing. She hadn’t asked him about Morgana, about Kensington in January, about…why was he worrying about what she  _hadn’t_ asked him?

“Unless you can think of anything else of relevance?” Morgause waved a hand at him. “You weren’t seen with the Prince much after Christmas, after all.”

“No,” Merlin’s heart clenched as he answered quickly. “No, we were both very busy with our final year deadlines. It was too difficult to maintain a social life.” Merlin tried to smile.

“Percy?” Morgause looked to the director. “Is that everything?”

“Yeah,” he nodded as he checked his clipboard. “Yeah, I think we’ve got a lot to work with there.”

“Great,” Morgause turned her smile on the two cameramen. “Why don’t you two,” she pointed at Percy, “and you, Percy, go and get some nice coffee from downstairs? I’ll go through the disclaimer forms with Mr Emrys.”

Percy frowned. “But-“

“No,” Morgause looked at him for a long moment. “I insist.”

Percy twitched slightly, then shrugged. “Okay. I’ll let Miss Smith know we’ll be ready for her earlier than anticipated.”

Morgause’s smile widened when she took in Merlin’s wariness. “Don’t look so terrified, Merlin. The difficult part is over now.”

“M mm,” Merlin said, wiping his hands on his trousers and standing up. “What do I need to sign?”

“Oh, no rush, Merlin,” she flicked her hair over her shoulders and settled back into her chair. “We can get to the forms in a minute.”

“I’m going to leave now, “ Merlin squared his shoulders and began to stride towards the door.

“You’re not going to ask me about the photograph?”

Morgause’s voice stopped him before he could reach for the door handle. “What?” he asked without turning around.

“Aren’t you going to ask me about the photograph?” Morgause repeated. “The one of you and Arthur arguing in Paris?”

Merlin turned slowly and clenched his hands into fists at his side. “No. I’m not going to ask about yet another invasion of our privacy.”

“But surely you want to know if whoever took that photograph also saw what happened in the water a few minutes later?”

Merlin’s eyes widened and his magic sprang to just below his fingertips.

Morgause smiled lazily. “If they know about the Sidhe?”

“What?” Merlin asked, the surprise in his voice noticeable even over just one syllable.

“The Sidhe, Merlin,” Morgause reclined further in the armchair. “I’m sure you remember. Although it must be difficult to remember  _everything_ you’ve lied about.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied as firmly as he could manage. “I’m leaving.”

“Oh come on, Merlin,” Morgause’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me about the Sidhe; about the Griffin. About you and Arthur, and how you twisted the Prince around your li ttle finger.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Merlin snarled, unable to stop the words pouring from him.

“Tell me about Morgana’s magic, Merlin.”

Merlin felt like his legs were about to give way beneath him out of shock.

“Tell me how it felt lying to all those people about you and what you really are,” Morgause shook her head, a mockery of pity in her expression. “Did you feel guilty, Merlin? About destroying your own kind?”

“I only ever acted to protect Arthur,” Merlin spat.

Morgause shook her head, her face finally morphing into one of anger. “You acted out of fear and a misplaced sense of loyalty, Merlin. As you  _always_  have done.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Merlin shook his head vehemently.

“I think you do,” Morgause sneered. Her eyes flashed gold for the briefest of seconds and Merlin found himself pinned against the wall as she slowly walked towards him.

“ _You_ …”he gasped out as he felt invisible hands constricting his throat.

“We are the same, Emrys,” Morgause ‘s stare was predatory, “and yet you would try to kill me for standing up for our kind against a tyrant.”

Merlin struggled to breathe, his eyes widening in horror as he couldn’t force his magic to react. His hands scrabbled against the skin of his neck, clawing at a force that he couldn’t touch.

“You shouldn’t have killed my kin, Merlin,” Morgause shook her head slowly.

Merlin could see darkness at the corner of his vision, barely hearing Morgause’s words as he fought to stay conscious.

“You took Nimueh from me.”

Merlin felt each blink lengthening.

“And now I will take everything from you.” She reached out a hand and gently trailed it across his cheek, the force on his throat easing slightly.

He gasped, clutching his throat once more as the pressure released completely and he crumpled to the floor.

“And only when you have lost everything will I think about letting you die.”


	33. Chapter 33

Merlin’s lungs burned as he struggled to inhale. His forehead was resting against the carpet as his arms shook with the effort it was taking to stop him collapsing completely. His magic was fizzing below the surface, but every time he tried to latch onto it the power fluttered away like a gossamer thread in clumsy hands.

“How long did you know about Morgana’s magic, Merlin?” Morgause was purring at him, in a manner completely at odds with the power she had demonstrated moments before.

Merlin turned his head slightly, enough to see the tips of Morgause’s shoes as she slowly walked towards him.

“You knew by the time she unwittingly unleashed it at Kensington,” Morgause’s advance paused and she dropped into a crouch, her eyes searching Merlin’s face. “But when did you first find out? Did you just remember…. _Emrys_?” Her face crumpled into a scowl as she spat his name. “Did you remember the way you betrayed her?”

“I don’t…” Merlin paused to breathe. “I don’t know…what….you’re talking about.”

Morgause shook her head. “All that power,” she muttered, “wasted on you.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I don’t  _want_ anything  _from_  you,” a sparkle of amusement flashing in her eyes, “I want to give you something, Merlin. I want to give you the chance to experience the suffering your actions have brought about time and time again.”

If she hadn’t clearly established that she could probably kill him with one well-aimed burst of magic, Merlin would have waved off her threat as the empty words of someone who had seen too many James Bond films.

Morgause smiled widely and the knot of dread that had been quickl y tangling itself into a something immeasurable within Merlin’s chest tautened with startling violence.

“Well…”Morgause slowly rose to her feet, malice evident in the sneer she gave Merlin as he managed to push himself up enough to prop his back against the wall. “This makes everything much more convenient.”

Merlin frowned.

“Ah.” Morgause looked delighted as the door handle rattled briefly. The knock that followed startling Merlin.

“Merlin?” It was Gwen’s voice. “Merlin, are you still in there?”

Morgause shook her head as she looked at him, raising a finger to her lips with a smirk.

“He must have left,” Merlin heard Lance say.

“He wouldn’t leave without telling us, Lance.” Gwen sounded concerned.

“Gwen, he was upset. Let’s just go downstairs and see if he’s there. It’s Merlin – he probably heard the word ‘coffee’ and couldn’t resist. If he’s not there, we can call him, okay? Morgana should be almost here, anyway.”

Gwen responded but they were already too far down the corridor for Merlin to hear what she said.

Merlin’s heart stuttered. “Morgana.”

“You just couldn’t resist reaching out to a Pendragon could you?” Morgause looked at him pityingly. “Even when you were warned to stay away.”

Merlin willed his body to obey as he staggered to his feet, his fingertips behind him bracing his weight against the wall. “I won’t let you hurt Morgana.”

“I would never hurt Morgana,” Morgause replied, and Merlin was surprised by the raw honesty in her voice. “It has only ever been my wish to protect her, to al low her to live without the fear of persecution.”

“Stay away from her,” Merlin’s voice shook slightly, but he felt steadier on his feet. “I  _will_  stop you.”

Morgause laughed, and Merlin was reminded of how Nimueh had done the same, right before she-

“Merlin!” Morgana was calling to him from the other side of the door.

“Morgana, you must leave!” Merlin shouted. His eyes darted to Morgause, waiting for her to try and stop him.

A loud thud on the other side of the door caused Morgause to grin. She folded her arms and simply waited as the thudding increased, the door finally bursting open as Percy, led by his shoulder, barrelled into the room.

Percy aimed a gun at Morgause as Morgana tentatively stepped into the room behind him. The Princess looked as drawn as she had done in Janu ary and Merlin’s stomach twisted into a tight coil.

Morgause flicked her hand at Percy and his gun flew from his hand, skittering across the hotel room and under the sofa. Percy managed to take two steps towards her before her eyes flashed and the man followed the same arc as the weapon, landing heavily on his back by the coffee table.

“Morgana, go!” Merlin pushed the Princess away from where she had wrapped a hand around his wrist. He stood in front of her, a shield between the witch and his friend. He flexed his fingers but felt nothing spark beneath his skin.

“So,” Morgause cooed as Morgana sucked in a shaky breath but did not leave the room, “the Pendragons continue to protect even those they consider an enemy.”

“Merlin is  _not_  an enemy,” Morgana responded.

Merlin turned to look at her and was horrified to see the defiant tilt to her chin; it was clear that Morgana wasn’t going to leave by choice. “Morgana, please go.  _Please_.”

“You have magic,” Morgana looked Morgause up and down, her fear seeming to melt away even in the face of Merlin’s desperate pleas.

“As do you,” Morgause replied with a slight smile. Her eyes flashed once more and the door closed behind Merlin and Morgana with a resounding crash.

Merlin felt a rush of magic in his veins and almost sighed with relief. Instead he forced his hand out towards Morgause and shouted “Wáce ierlic!”

Morgause only looked slightly irritated as she deflected the spell with a shake of her head. “Wasted,” she muttered as she looked pointedly at Merlin. ““Wáce ierlic!” She barely raised her voice but the strength of her power was enough to cause Merlin to slam into the wall, his head connecting with t he plaster hard enough to dazzle him. He sank to the floor once more.

“Merlin!” Morgana shrieked, dropping to her knees as she rushed to his side.

Merlin whimpered softly as Morgana’s fingers gently ran across the tender spot on the back of his skull.

“Why are you doing this?” Morgana’s voice was higher than usual, but there was still a hint of obstinacy to her words.

“My poor girl,” Morgause shook her head sadly. “You should not feel sympathy for this traitor. It is because of  _him_  that you were unable to take your rightful place on the throne.”

“What?”

“You have much to learn,” Morgause smiled slightly.

“I want nothing to do with you,” Morgana spat and Merlin tensed as he saw the cold anger return to Morgause’s eyes.

“You will feel differently when you know the truth,” Morgause snapped. She raised her hands and Merlin shivered as he felt magic hissing in the air around him as she intoned, "Bedyrne ús! Astýre ús þanonweard!”

Morgana’s grip on Merlin tightened as the air around them began to shift violently, The Princess’ hair whipped in the wind, and Merlin tried to raise a hand to pull her closer. He clamped his eyes shut against the force of the magic, his stomach lurching in the way it did when he fell in his dreams.

There was no lessening of the wind, no gradual slowing of the world that spun around them; everything just suddenly stopped moving. Merlin opened his eyes, emitting a surprised choking sound as he took in his surroundings. His very  _different_  surroundings

Only inches away from him, Arthur looked just as shocked.

_This couldn’t be happening again._

* * *

Merlin unceremoniously threw his holdall and coat onto the floor the minute he opened his bedroom door. Not feeling like that had quelled his need to vent his frustrations he kicked the corner of his desk, swearing as pain reverberated through his foot.

He dropped onto his bed and growled at the ceiling. It had taken twice as long as usual to get from Ealdor to Albion due to the snow and ice that had been holding the country at its mercy since just after the dawn of the new year. Not only did that mean that Gwen and Lance weren’t going to be back any time soon, it also meant that it was now far too late to head over to Caruthers’s to see Arthur.

Merlin ran a hand through his hair as he thought of the Prince. Uther had dragged Arthur and Morgana off to prepare to leave for Sandringham almost immediately after the meeting with the Advisory Council. Merlin had barely had time to blink at Arthur, before he’d been ushered out of Buckingham Palace and into a car, and he certainly hadn’t the opportunity to speak to him about magic.

Compounding the issue was the fact that Leon wasn’t running Arthur’s security team anymore; Agravaine had been obtained from somewhere within the depths of Buckingham Palace and had been slotted in to take Leon’s place before they’d even left for Norfolk. Agravaine had deemed the threat against the Prince to be serious enough to begin screening all communication to and from the Prince and Princess. Arthur had only just managed to warn Merlin (via Leon and subsequently via Owain) of the surveillance before a misplaced text would have had Agravaine skipping straight to the King with news of a certain clandestine relationship.

For the entirety of the Christmas holiday Merlin and Arthur’s relationship could be reduced to some very simple statistics:

**Four perfunctory text messages from Arthur:**   
  


  1. _Have arrived at Sandy. Hope journey to Wales was okay. Say hi to your Mum. A_
  2. _Merry Christmas. Did you watch the speech? A ( &Morgana)_
  3. _For once would be glad to be dragged to M’s party. Happy New Year. A_
  4. _Back at Caruther’s. Top Gear at 8? A_



  
**Four equally perfunctory replies from Merlin:**

  1. _In Wales. Cold. All surfaces hidden under mountains of mince pies. Mum says hi to you and Morgana. M_
  2. _Merry Christmas, Clotpole. Of course we watched the speech. Now watching Ghost with Mum, Will and Nerys. Want to die. M_
  3. _Heard party cancelled from Owain. Hope Morgana is feeling better. Happy New Year. Gwen & Lance send their love. M_
  4. _Stuck on M4. Won’t be back for Top Gear. M_



**One phone call** too brief to even recall the details of.

 **Two emails**  – one consisted of whinging about the lecture timetable for next term (Augustus Clotpole to Merlin Emrys), and the other a forwarded email from Delia’s listing the New Year Specials (Merlin Emrys to Augustus Clotpole)

He picked up his phone to let Arthur know he was back in Albion, almost dropping it when it rang immediately.

“Arthur?” He asked as he answered, surprised that Arthur was actually calling him.

“Merlin. Fuck, I need your help,” Arthur’s voice was shaking. “Please.”

Merlin bolted off the bed. “Arthur? What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“It’s Morgana. She collapsed as soon as she got back to Buckingham.”

“ Jesus, Arthur,” Merlin breathed, already shrugging his coat back on over Arthur’s hoodie. “I’m coming over now.”

“Just come outside. I’m in the car.”

Merlin ran from his room, almost tripping over his discarded bag as he did so. He rushed past a startled Owain, who’d clearly just settled in front of the television and pulled the front door open.

The battered, navy Land Rover Merlin hadn’t seen since the covert trip to Ealdor was just pulling up at the kerb. The passenger door was thrown open by Arthur as he leaned across, yelling, “Merlin, get in!”

Merlin hesitated for a split-second, enough for desperation to set in on Arthur’s face.

“Fuck, Merlin!” The Prince cried. “Now!”

Merlin didn’t need telling again. He practically jumped into the car, slamming the door shut be hind him just as Owain hurried out of the flat.

“Wait!” Owain yelled, but Arthur was already accelerating up the road, barely pausing at the junction with the main road, before he swung the car to the right.

“Fucking  _Hell_ , Arthur,” Merlin yelled as he managed to clip his seatbelt into place  _just_  before the care skidded slightly on the icy surface.

Arthur barely reacted, just a tiny flinch as he changed gears and continued towards the ring road.

“Where’s Agravaine?” Merlin asked when it finally dawned on him that they were actually alone together for the first time in weeks.

“Hopefully still lying where he landed when I punched him,” Arthur spat.

“What?!” Merlin was not proud of the octave his voice hit. “Bloody hell, Arthur, what’s going on?”

“He said I couldn’t leave, said it was too dangerous,” Arthur replied, verging on the slightly hysterical. “I need to get to her, Merlin. Elyan said they think it was magic. Fuck, Merlin, fuck, they don’t know what’s wrong with her.” He accelerated too quickly as he pulled onto a roundabout and nearly drove the car into the back of a cautiously driven van.

“Arthur, pull over and stop the car!” Merlin yelled as Arthur slammed on the brakes, the traction of the four-wheel drive the only thing that stopped them for careening into the back of the other vehicle.

“We need to get to London.”

“Arthur, pull the fucking car over now!” Merlin considering the safety of stalling the car with magic, but didn’t dare risk it. “Stop in that lay-by. I’ll drive, because you’re going to fucking kill us both before we even get out of Albion.”

Arthur let out a frustrated sound, his breath hitching slightly, but he did as Merlin requested, his hands shaking visibly as he pulled his fingers from the steering wheel.

“Come on,” Merlin said, gently catching Arthur’s wrist with his right hand, as he used his left to unclip the Prince’s seatbelt. “Swap places with me.”

Arthur nodded silently, avoiding Merlin’s gaze as he scrabbled at the door handle to let himself out. Merlin mirrored his actions with a loud sigh a second later.

As they crossed in front of the car, the headlights forcing the worry on both of their faces into sharp relief, they brushed hands; a gentle touch that conveyed one simple message.

We  _will_  get through this.

 

**ooOOoo**

Arthur had been preparing himself for Uther’s wrath since Merlin had pulled off the M25, and Merlin was getting increasingly anxious as Arthur drew further into himself. Arthur had switched both of their phones off within seconds of Merlin taking over at the wheel, but neither was in any doubt that Agravaine, Leon, Owain and anyone else remotely connected to the Prince would be speeding after them. Arthur had admitted removing the car’s tracker for the Ealdor trip, but there would be no questions to where Arthur would be headed.

“Arthur, we’ll be inside in a minute,” he said as he pulled the car into the hospital car park, dropping the ticket onto the dashboard. Now was one of the times Merlin would have gladly allowed Arthur to announce to all and sundry that he was the Prince of Wales if it meant getting them to Morgana quicker, but as it was finding a normal parking space seemed the more sensible opt ion.

They walked quickly across the slippery tarmac, going as fast as would allow them to reach the doors without skidding their way to serious injury. Arthur reached out to take Merlin’s hand as soon as he was close enough, and Merlin didn’t hesitate to weave their fingers together; some things were more important than worrying about appearances, and right now there was nothing more important than making sure Morgana and Arthur would both be alright. They only moved away from each other when they cleared the last car.

Arthur’s arrival was clearly expected if the group of people waiting to rush the Prince and his friend through a door and down a long corridor that Merlin suspected was a staff area was anything to go by.

“Your Royal Highness,” a tall man in a smart suit addressed Arthur, “the Princess Royal is resting comfortably. The press haven’t yet been alerted to the fact that she is here and His Majesty, the King, requested that you be brought to him as soon as you arrived.” The man looked at Merlin.

“He’ll be joining us,” Arthur nodded and the man ducked his head in assent as they reached a door.

“His Majesty is in the room to your left.” The man swiped a card across a panel on the wall. He opened the door and ushered Merlin and Arthur through before closing the door behind the two of them.

Arthur stopped walking just before they reached the room on the left. He pinched the bridge of his nose and Merlin was very aware that the Prince was shaking even more than he had when they exited the car.

“Arthur…” Merlin curled his hand around the hem of Arthur’s hoodie and tugged until Arthur dropped his hand from his face. “She  _will_  be okay.”

Arthur bit his lip and nodded. H e half turned to open the door, before looking back at Merlin and taking his hand.

Merlin stared dumbly at their joined hands for a second. “Arthur, your father i-”

Arthur leaned down and softly pressed his lips to Merlin’s, his free hand resting lightly on Merlin’s shoulder. “It doesn’t matter,” he whispered as he pulled away. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I  _need_ you.”

Merlin wanted to protest, but he was a coward in the face of Arthur’s determination and allowed himself to be pulled into the room, all the while clutching the Prince’s hand like a lifeline.

Uther was staring out of the window at the falling snow, his shoulders hunched in a display of anxiety that Merlin vaguely remembered from old news photographs of Uther in the weeks after Queen Ygraine’s death. He didn’t turn immediately.

“Fat her,” Arthur spoke clearly, tilting his chin up in a way that suggested more confidence than Merlin knew he was feeling.

The King moved slowly as he twisted to face his son, looking twenty years old than his true age; his face pinched, a deep frown creasing his brow. There was only the barest narrowing of his eyes when his gaze swept over the death grip his son had on Merlin’s hand. “Arthur.” His eyes lifted to focus on Merlin. “Merlin.”

There was silence in the room for a long moment; the expected explosive reaction to Arthur’s behaviour in Albion not appearing as expected.

“How is she?” Arthur asked eventually, only the slightest waver to his voice.

Uther ran a hand over his jaw. “Comfortable. But we won’t know what happened until she wakes up.”

“Was it…?” It was clear Arthur didn’t want to voice th e word, but Merlin heard the  _magic_ loud and clear.

Uther’s face set into a grim line. “It is likely.”

“Can I see her?”

Uther shook his head. “Arthur, I want you to go to Kensington at once. Leon will be here to accompany you shortly.”

“Father, I-“

“Arthur,” Uther’s voice was dangerously low. “Do not test my patience. You will go to the Palace and be glad that I am not questioning your behaviour this evening.”

“But-“ Arthur cut himself off as Merlin squeezed his hand.

Uther tilted his head slightly in Merlin’s direction, an unfathomable look once more crossing his face.

“Yes, Father,” Arthur bowed his head slightly.

“Merlin.”

Merlin’s spin e stiffened as Uther addressed him directly. “Your Majesty?”

“You will return to the Palace as well,” Uther announced firmly. “You will come to Clarence House tomorrow morning.”

Merlin managed a quiet “Yes, Sire.”

Uther nodded once and turned his attention once more to the scene outside the window.

Arthur and Merlin looked at each other quickly, before taking the opportunity to leave.

“Arthur,” Uther said solemnly, his son stopping in his tracks.

“Yes, Father?”

“We will talk tomorrow.”

Arthur swallowed loudly. “Yes, Father.” He waited a couple of seconds just in case Uther intended to say anything else, but when the silence began to stretch he pulled Merlin from the room and back out into the corridor just as Leon a rrived.

“Arthur,” Leon shook his head, “what the fuck did you think you were doing?”

“Leon, please,” Arthur sighed tiredly.

“No, Arthur,” Leon held up his hands, “you can’t just disappear off into the night. You’re not invincible, Arthur.”

Arthur’s shoulders hunched and he dropped his head to his chest. “Please can we just leave?”

Leon shook his head at Merlin, his disapproval for both boys equally displayed on his face. Merlin’s eyes travelled sheepishly to the ground.

“How is Morgana?” Leon asked quietly, and it wasn’t lost on Merlin that he’d not used her title.

“I don’t know,” Arthur pressed a fist to his lips. “What the hell is going on?”

 

**ooOOoo**

Leon ended up driving them to the Palace in the Land Rover; Owain following in one car, and an apparently bruised (and livid) Agravaine holed up in another. As they pulled into the now familiar gravel courtyard Merlin yawned loudly.

“Bed,” Arthur said quietly as they climbed out of the car.

“Bed,” Merlin agreed, at this stage far too tired to worry about the fact that Uther was potentially going to flay him, or something equally horrible, in the morning.

Leon opened the door that would lead them into the entrance hall. A flash of golden light emanated from inside a split-second before Leon was hurled backwards, landing in a groaning heap next to Merlin.

“Leon!” Arthur dropped to his knees immediately, looking quickly over the fallen man. “Leon?”

“Arthur!” Merlin shouted, pulling the Prince to his feet. “Arthur, you need to get away from here now!”

Arthur obstinately shrugged Merlin’s hand away and strode towards the Palace.

“Arthur!” Merlin yelled, running so that he could try and block Arthur from reaching the door. “You can’t go in there.”

“Whatever is in there is probably responsible for what happened to Morgana,” Arthur grabbed Merlin’s shoulders roughly and manoeuvred him out of the way. “I’m not going to run away from it.”

“How will getting yourself killed help?”

“ _Merlin_!”

“Arthur, please?” All power drained from his voice as he begged Arthur in little more than a whisper. “Please just leave.  _Please_.”

“Arthur?” called a soft, lyrical voice from inside the Palace.

“What the fuck is that?” Arthur muttered, nudging Merlin out of the way once more.

“Arthur, is that you?”

Arthur stood in the doorway and looked down the corridor, Merlin pressing himself as close to his shoulder as possible. A figure stood at the other end, facing away from them.

The hairs on the back of Merlin’s neck rose, an almost-painful tingle running down his spine as he felt the powerful magic coursing through the building. “Arthur, we need to leave. Now. This is  _not_  good.” He looked behind him to where Leon was moving slightly, but still on the ground. The other two cars hadn’t arrived as expected.

“Arthur?” called the figure again.

“Arthur!” Merlin pulled the Prince’s arm. “ _Please_.” Merlin didn’t care that he was begging. The fear tugging at his heart was unlike anything he’d ever felt before…and yet seeing Arthur, glowing slightly in the golden threads of magic that were now weaving visibly through the air, confidently facing something that felt an awful lot like doom, seemed awfully familiar.

The figure turned at Merlin’s shout, and Merlin wasn’t sure if the surprised exhalation of breath that seemed far too loud came from his own mouth or from Arthur’s.

The figure seemed glow as she turned; ethereal in her beauty, and yet so familiar to Merlin. The gold of her hair, the defiant set of her jaw, blue eyes that he knew so well in someone else’s face.

The figure smiled and Arthur gasped out one word.

“Mother.”

* * *

“Merlin?” Arthur’s eyes widened as he took in the fact that Merlin and his sister were suddenly sprawled in front of the fireplace in his study at Kensington.

Merlin opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t manage to emit so much as a breath before a noise from the other side of the room commanded attention.

Morgause was smirking at the Prince, a malevolent twinkle in her eyes. “Your Royal Highness,” she spat disdainfully as she dropped into a parody of a curtsey.

Morgana helped Merlin to his feet and drew him backwards until they were standing next to Arthur. Arthur didn’t flinch as he suddenly found Merlin pressed against his side, but Merlin wasn’t sure whether his heart was hammering because he was possibly about to die, or because he suddenly found himself closer to Arthur than he ever thought he would be again. He  _almost_  r olled his eyes at himself for being so ridiculous at a time like this.

“Right, Merlin,” Morgause smiled lazily. “How should I kill the Prince?”


	34. Chapter 34

“I always knew you were the Devil,” Arthur folded his arms and looked at the witch before him. “So  _this_ ,” he waved his hand around to represent the sudden appearance of three people in his study and the verbal threat against his life, “doesn’t actually surprise me all that much.”

Morgause frowned, a putout expression crossing her face as Arthur’s laugh turned into a smirk

“Arthur,” Morgana hissed, reaching her arm behind Merlin to prod her brother in the side, “what the fuck are you doing?”

Arthur turned his head to briefly look at Merlin, and Merlin was horrified to see a familiar sparkle in the Prince’s eyes; the sparkle that usually came before Arthur said or did something stupidly noble. Or just plain stupidly  _stupid_. Merlin had a feeling whatever the current idea was it fell into the latter category

“What exactly is it that you want, Morgause?” Arthur tilted his head to one side, adopting an almost-bored expression.

“I want you dead, Arthur Pendragon,” Morgause replied, shrugging slightly as if she’d just casually announced she’d quite like a cup of tea.

“Right,” Arthur nodded. “Well, you wouldn’t be the first. And I’m sure you won’t be the last.”

“ _Arthur_ ,” Morgana sucked in a breath and her irritation at Arthur’s stupidity was clearly morphing into fear. “ _Stop_.”

“No,” Arthur shook his head, his body practically humming with determination. “I’ve had  _enough_  of this.” He took a step forward to separate himself from the other two. “If you want to kill me, Morgause, then why haven’t you just done it already? Why haven’t you taken one of the  _myriad_ of opportunities that I’m sure have presented themselves to you over the years?”

 _Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!_ Merlin screamed internally.

“Because, Arthur Pendragon…” Morgause trailed off. “The world does not, in fact, revolve around you. You have  _always_  possessed an inflated sense of self-importance and a cavalier disregard for those who disagree with you. You fear what is different and you persecute those who choose not to conform to your ideals.”

Arthur’s smirk dropped in favour of him looking scandalised. “I  _persecute_  people?”

“You were, and always will be, a tyrant, Arthur Pendragon.” Morgause sneered. “A tyrant just like your father.”

“No!” Merlin finally found his voice as the haze from when he’d collided with the wall began to lift. He still couldn’t grasp his magic with any strength, but at least it felt closer than it had since Morgause first attacked him.

“Merlin, stay out of this.” Arthur snapped, keeping his eyes on the witch.

Morgause smiled, staring pointedly at Merlin as she addressed the Prince. “No, Arthur, you’d never act unfavourably to anyone who was different, would you?”

Arthur blanched slightly at the obvious implication.

“You persecute the very person who has been your protector,” Morgause’s smile dropped completely as she held Arthur’s gaze. “As always, you fail to see the true worth, and  _power_ , of those around you. Too blinded and consumed by your own position and privilege. The only reason you still have breath in your body is because Emrys has ensu red it.”

Arthur turned slowly to face Merlin; there was a battle raging in Arthur’s eyes and Merlin couldn’t bear to sustain the contact past a few seconds.

“It is  _you_  who has betrayed  _him_ ,” Morgause continued, “and he has betrayed his kind.

You were born of magic, Arthur Pendragon; magic of the Old Religion invoked at the request of your father, yet you choose to make it your enemy. Emrys  _is_ magic, but he fights for a man who abhors his very nature. Your arrogance will once more be your downfall. But not only yours; your past actions have also sealed Emrys’ fate as your paths are once more entwined.”

Merlin saw the infinitesimal curl of Arthur’s fingers as he brought them towards his palm. It seemed Morgause had struck a successful blow, and Merlin, unfortunately, knew exactly what happened when someone struck out a t Arthur; stubborn, hotheaded, proud (brilliant) Arthur  _always_  retaliated.

Reaching a hand out, Merlin gently brushed the very tips of his fingers over Arthur’s elbow, his message clear.  _Don’t_.

But, did Merlin mention that Arthur was also a complete  _prat_?

Arthur folded his arms, shrugged away from Merlin’s touch and glared at Morgause. “His  _name_ …is Merlin.”

Merlin wanted to smack him on the back of the head again for being ridiculous. There was never a good time to get shirty with a sorceress;  _when would Arthur learn?_

“ _And_ ,” Arthur continued, waving his hand in the general direction of where Merlin stood behind him, “there is no way that my  _path_  is entwined with someone as preposterous as  _Mer_ lin.”

 _Fuck_ , M erlin’s muddled mind whispered at him. Arthur was saying his name in the way he had always seen as a display of fondness, the inflection on the first syllable only ever heard on the Prince’s lips. His magic jumped wildly beneath his skin and he grappled with it, still unable to stop it skittering  _just_  out of his reach at the last moment.

Morgause only smiled again. “You are nothing without Emrys, Arthur Pendragon. And he is nothing without  _you_.” She held a hand out towards him, a considering look in her eyes

Arthur’s confidence wavered slightly and Merlin, bracing himself to be pushed away again, quickly glanced at Morgana to check she was still upright before stepping forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with Arthur.

“I won’t let you harm him, Morgause,” Merlin’s voice was low, but his words were steady. “As long as there is breath in my body, you will not harm him.”

Morgause looked almost impressed fir a split-second. “Emrys,” she shook her head, “even  _you_  won’t get the better of me this time.”

Merlin’s eyes hardened. “I got the better of  _Nimueh_ , didn’t I?”

Morgause let out an almighty shriek and Merlin found himself flat on his back.

Morgause screamed again, but there was something different about it, something pained. He heard Arthur let out a string of curses before Merlin saw the Prince swim into focus and drag him to his feet.

“Fucking genius,  _Mer_ lin,” Arthur pulled Merlin’s arm around his shoulder as Merlin gasped in surprise. “Aggravate the crazy bitch who’s already trying to kill us.” Arthur didn’t wait for a reply before roughly manhandling Merlin out of the room.

Merlin just about managed to get a sideways glance at where Morgause had stood moments before. She was now crumpled in an uncomfortable position on the carpet, the heavy wooden desk chair lying in pieces around her.

Merlin could have cried with relief when he saw Leon and Owain rushing up the stairs towards them as they reached the landing.

“Morgana!” Arthur barked and Merlin felt the Princess brush lightly against his shoulder. “Where’s Percival?”

“She hurt him, Arthur. Oh God, Arthur I-“

“Go with Leon!”

“ _Arthur_!”

“ _Now_ , Morgana,” Arthur snapped, pushing her towards Leon. “You can tell me how you managed to throw a chair across a room without touching it  _later_.”

 _Oh,_ Merlin winced.  _That rather explained Morgause ’s incapacitated state._

“Owain, take Merlin!” Arthur shoved Merlin towards the awaiting bodyguard.

Merlin’s eyes narrowed as he realised  _exactly_  where this situation was headed. “Oh no, you’re not going back there on your own!” He jerked himself out of reach of both Owain and Arthur.

Arthur clamped a hand tightly over Merlin’s shoulder. “Go!”

Merlin retaliated by bunching his fists in the front of Arthur’s jumper, fighting when Leon reached over to extract him, pulling him away from Arthur and pushing him towards Owain.

“Leon!” Merlin yelled, horrified.

Leon didn’t respond to Merlin, just grabbed Arthur’s arms, pulled them behind the Prince’s back and pushed him towards the stairs, Morgana hurrying down in front of them.

“Leon, get your hands off me!” Arthur growled as he struggled against the iron grip of his bodyguard, managing to tilt his head back and clip Leon’s chin with the back of his skull.

“Ow,  _fuck_ , Arthur!” Leon yelled, but didn’t let go off the Prince.

Merlin listed slightly when Owain suddenly let go of his arm.

“Sorry, Arthur!” Owain grasped Arthur’s shoulder and helped Leon to manoeuvre an increasingly belligerent Arthur after his sister.

Merlin, fighting off another wave of dizziness, silently padded backwards across the landing. He was the only one who could end this, and he needed to end it now. He wouldn’t be able to do that if he was worrying about Arthur and Morgana.

He’d almost made it to the double doors that separated Arthur’s suite of rooms from the rest of the Palace when the Prince spotted what Mer lin was doing. The Prince’s eyes widened and he shook his head vehemently.

“Merlin!” Arthur roared as he tried to break out of his bodyguards’ grasp. “No! Jesus,  _fuck_ , no, Merlin!  _Leon, let go! Merlin!”_

Merlin looked between the twin expressions of Leon and Owain – it was clear they wanted to go after him, but they couldn’t risk letting go of their charge – he was the Prince of Wales, after all. Merlin let his gaze briefly rest on Morgana, who was now trying to push her way up the stairs past the bodyguards to get to Merlin as well.

Only when Merlin had a hand on each door, ready to slam them closed did he finally lock eyes with Arthur. His heart stuttered as Arthur let out an anguished cry of frustration, a haunted look settling on his face like an icy shroud.

“Merlin,  _please_  don’t. I can’t- _Merlin_!”

Merlin closed his eyes. He couldn’t watch Arthur beg him not to do something again. Not after last time.

“Arthur,” he whispered, unsure whether Arthur could hear him, but trying to invoke everything he still felt into his name. Then, with a deep breath, he drew on his magic, finally caught a thread and pleaded for it to be sufficient; he pushed the doors closed, sealing them shut to any force that would try to break in from the other side with a brief flash of his eyes. He still didn’t have full control over his magic, but he hoped that the spell would be enough to keep Arthur, or anyone else for that matter, out of the way until either Morgause, Merlin, or  _both_  no longer posed a threat to the safety of the Royal family.

* * *

Ygraine Pendragon was only twenty-nine when she’d died minutes after giving birth to her son. The nation, and indeed the world, had mourned the passing of the kind, intelligent woman who had brought humour and purpose to her role as Queen. In short, Ygraine had been  _brilliant_.

But Merlin was certain that the woman in front of them was not Ygraine. Furthermore, he was certain that the woman in front of them, whoever she was, was most definitely  _not_ brilliant.

“Arthur,” Ygraine smiled, her eyes lighting up as Arthur continued to stare in astonishment. “My darling.”

“Arthur,” Merlin muttered, reaching out to curl his hand tightly around the Prince’s wrist. “Arthur, that is  _not_  your mother.”

Arthur didn’t react past swallowing heavily.

“My boy.” Ygraine took a step towards them and Merlin tightened his grasp on Arthur. “Look how wonderful you are.”

Arthur was trembling again and Merlin’s heart clenched at the thought of what Arthur must be feeling. The Prince’s eyes were wide, hypnotised by the impossible vision walking towards him.

“I didn’t even see your eyes,” Ygraine spoke softly as she continued her graceful advance towards the speechless Prince.

Arthur broke. He didn’t move towards the woman, but Merlin felt the violent shudder ripple through the Prince’s body as he gave a choked sob.

Ygraine moved more quickly and Arthur seemed to inexplicably melt out of Merlin’s hold. Ygraine had her arms wrapped tightly around Arthur within an instant, the Prince clinging tightly to her as he gasped for air.

“My darling,  _darling_  boy,” Ygraine mutt ered soothingly as the golden threads around her began to still and fade away into the ether. “I am so proud of you and Morgana.” She pulled away from him, but kept their hands joined between them.

Merlin felt a change in the atmosphere and his own magic tingled in response. “Arthur,” he called, taking a step towards the Prince. “I need to you to listen to me.”

Arthur didn’t listen and the completely glazed look in Arthur’s eyes had Merlin’s heart rate climbing at an alarming rate. It was the fact that Merlin didn’t think Arthur would have listened if he’d grabbed either side of his face and yelled an inch away from his nose.

Merlin lunged forwards, wrapped his arms around Arthur’s waist and pulled him roughly from Ygraine’s grip, his hands rising up protectively over the Prince’s chest.

Arthur, seemingly stunned out of whatever powe r ‘Ygraine’ had held over him, reacted immediately. He turned to Merlin and pushed him away, not seeming to care when Merlin tripped over his own feet and landed in an unceremonious heap on the floor. “What the  _fuck_  are you doing, Merlin?” Arthur threw his hands up and turned back to Ygraine.

“Arthur, she isn’t your mother!” Merlin shouted desperately as she scrabbled to his feet. Arthur ignored him again as he took his mother’s hands.  _Fuck, fuckity, fuckfuckfuck._ Merlin really didn’t want to have to use his magic on Arthur, but he was starting to think it might be his only option. “You’re not even going to question how impossible this is?  _Arthur_!”

“ _Merlin_!” Arthur boomed and Merlin blanched, cowed enough into taking a defensive step away from the Prince; he’d never seen blazing anger on Arthur before. Irritation, frustration, annoyance were all quite c ommon, but this demonstration of fury seared straight into Merlin’s soul, and it burned.

“Come with me, Arthur,” Ygraine’s lyrical voice weaved its magic on her son and he smiled softly as she tugged him away from Merlin. “We have much to discuss.”

Merlin growled in frustration, the need to protect Arthur rising to the surface as his magic whipped through his veins ready to leap out to shield the most important person in the universe from whatever harm was doubtlessly about to befall him. Arthur’s propensity to care about others made him a vulnerable target when it came to those who could ensorcell him with the promise of love; Merlin had seen it with Sophia, and now the image of Ygraine was being used to bewitch the boy who would  _always_  care too much.

**_You must protect him, Young Warlock. Arthur Pendragon must not fall tonight._ **

Merlin only flinched slightly as the Dragon’s words reverberated in his mind. He squared his shoulders and set his jaw as Ygraine and Arthur began to walk away. “Let him go.” His voice was much deeper than usual and shaking slightly, not from fear, but from barely suppressed rage.

Ygraine paused, halting Arthur beside her. She turned to face Merlin, a slight smile on her face as she gripped the Prince’s hand tightly. Arthur looked livid, but quieted as Ygraine squeezed his fingers. “Why would I do that, Emrys?”

And that was all the confirmation Merlin needed. The Dragon had told him that Emrys was not just his surname; instead it was the name the Druids had for the greatest warlock who would ever live, the one who would lead the Once and Future King to greatness, and it was not simply a coincidence that Merlin had been named as he had. Merlin didn’t believe that he could be the one the Dr uid prophecies had talked about – what with the whole famous Merlin from Arthurian Legend probably taking that title (and now was  _not_  the time to dwell on the Dragon’s many hints about past and future lives) – yet if the woman before him knew Merlin as Emrys then there could be no question about her intentions. She was here to kill Arthur.

“Let him go,” Merlin repeated, “or I will stop you.”

“And how exactly are you going to do that?” Ygraine laughed. “You’re nothing but a little boy.”

Merlin frowned.  _What? But she’d called him Emrys. She knew he had ma-_

_**Oh.** _

Ygraine grinned delightedly. “Well, Emrys?”

Merlin looked at Arthur; anger still smouldering in the Prince’s eyes. He knew it would be nothing compared to what Arthur’s reaction would be upon discovering that his boyfriend was more than a little bit magic. His heart clenched painfully as he realised that this was his own fault – he’d chosen to avoid telling Arthur about his magic in the past and now…

Merlin shuddered, convinced that that was the moment his heart broke as he raised his hands with a final look at Arthur. The Prince’s anger shifted into confusion just before Merlin closed his eyes, willing himself to remember the spells he’d studied at Gaius’ hand. “ **Oferswing**!”

If the momentary look of surprise on Ygraine’s face was anything to go by then she hadn’t actually been expecting Merlin to reveal his magic at that moment. Merlin watched, blood rushing in his ears, as the woman was wrenched form Arthur’s grasp and thrown violently across the room.

_Don’t look at Arthur. Don’t look at Arthur. Don’t look-_

Merlin looked at Arthur. The Prince was standing stock still in the middle of the galleried hall; if Merlin thought his heart was broken  _before_ he even revealed himself to Arthur, then the emptiness that threatened to suffocate him now could only be his soul shattering. Arthur’s mouth was open slightly in shock, his shoulders tensed from the sight of his mother being tossed aside like a ragdoll.

Merlin was about to say something when Arthur seemed to be released from his stupor. He looked straight through Merlin, and that was perhaps worse than the anger Merlin had expected. The Prince turned and hurried to his mother’s side, dropping to his knees an d running his hands gently over her face.

As he stood there watching Arthur break down at the sight of his mother’s lifeless body Merlin couldn’t stop the tears from pouring down his face. He clenched a fist and brought it to his lips, hoping to stem the sound of his sobs – he didn’t dare move towards Arthur. Merlin Emrys was a coward once more.

Arthur slowly rose to his feet and raised his eyes to Merlin. The look on Arthur’s face was indefinable and Merlin tensed as he waited for the Prince’s next move.

He didn’t have to wait long. In four long strides Arthur was across the room, his fist connecting with Merlin’s cheekbone with enough force to send the two of them tumbling to the floor. As his back hit the ground, Merlin’s lungs emptied themselves of air and he stared wide-eyed up at the Prince.

Arthur pressed his hands against Merlin’s ch est to keep him pinned to the floor. “What the fuck are you?” He roared, his eyes wild and unfocused.

“I-“Merlin gulped as Arthur pressed harder, his fingertips sure to leave bruises. “I-“

“Tell me, Merlin,” Arthur barked, “or I swear to God I will kill you.”

Merlin took a shuddering breath. “I have magic, Arthur. I was born with it.”

Arthur looked at him for a long moment in silence before his face crumpled and Arthur let go off him, backing off so that he landed heavily on the floor a few feet away. “ _Fuck!”_ He screamed, slamming his palms into the floor.

Merlin carefully propped himself up on his elbows. “Arthur, I swear-“

“Tell me you’re lying!” Arthur moved forward, grabbing hold of Merlin’s shoulders and shaking him violently. “ _Fuck!_  Tell m e you’re lying, Merlin. Tell me your lying or I’ll-“ He cut himself of with a sob.

“I can’t,” Merlin whispered brokenly.

Arthur pushed Merlin back to the floor with a howl, the likes of which Merlin never wished to hear again. The Prince stood quickly, tugging roughly at his hair as he looked between Merlin and Ygraine. “You killed my mother,” he eventually breathed.

“No, Arthur!” Merlin scrambled to his feet, ignoring the blinding pain shooting under his left eye. “Arthur, that’s not her!”

Arthur looked ready to attack again and Merlin bowed his head, waiting for the blow.

“Emrys.”

The snarling voice caught both boys off-guard. They turned to where Ygraine had lain only moments before to see Cara Nimueh, dusting herself off as she glared at Merlin.

Merlin moved instinctively, placing himself in front of Arthur. “Stay away from him.”

“Emrys,” Nimueh shook her head, “your threats are getting quite repetitive. I thought you’d have at least gained a bit more creativity at this stage.”

“Stay away from him,” Merlin repeated, invoking a confidence that had left him at the first sign of Arthur’s anguish.

“I’m not actually interested in him just yet,” Nimueh retorted with a sneer. She flicked her hand and Arthur crumpled to the ground with a breathy sigh.

Merlin was by the Prince’s side in an instant, heaving a sigh of relief when he realised that Arthur was still breathing.

“Don’t worry,” Nimueh smirked, “I’ll get round to killing him later. But only when I’ve reminded his father of just how easy it was for me to take something he loved from him the first time round.”

“What are you talking about?” Merlin forced himself to stand and give Nimueh his full attention. “Who are you?”

“I am the reason that Arthur exists,” Nimueh replied. “The cycle of Destiny saw it fit to throw Uther Pendragon into my path once more, deeming me as the only one powerful enough to bring life forth at will. It was more difficult to convince him to accept my help this time – Ygraine was much stronger.” She seemed to almost be talking to herself.

Merlin had a horrible feeling that Nimueh was making reference to all of the things the Dragon had told him about ‘ ** _Before_** _’_. The things that he still didn’t want to think about.

“But,” Nimueh smiled, “he made the agreement and Arthur was born.”

“Why do you want to kill Arthur if you ag reed to help in the first place?”

““It was not an  _agreement_!” Nimueh scowled. “Because of  _you_  Emrys, Fate remains an unbroken circle. Until the correct path is forged I will never be free; forced to remain a part of events, unable to alter those moments that have been forced into the very fabric of the world.”

“I don’t understand.” Merlin shook his head as he thought about what Nimueh had said about the King. “How are you on Uther’s council if he knows you have magic?”

“I was bound by the laws of the Old Religion to ensure the birth of the Once and Future King. It was not my choice.” Nimueh glared as she spoke. “I was prevented from altering Arthur’s predestined path until he had forged an alliance with  _you_. I am a High Priestess, Emrys, I think I can fool an imperceptive King into believing I am someone different. You should know, you managed it with his  _son_.”

Merlin clenched his fists. “You expect me to believe that it is Arthur’s fate to die tonight while I stand here and let you? I won’t let that happen.”

Nimueh laughed. “You are but a  _shadow_  of Emrys; too naïve and uneducated in the ways of the Old Religion. I have waited until the bond between you and Arthur Pendragon was at its strongest as that is when the grasp of Fate falls away and leaves you both unprotected. Emotion always did weaken you, Emrys; another lesson I thought you would have learned by now.”

Merlin felt his magic thrumming beneath his skin as Nimueh taunted him. He no longer felt the control he’d possessed for months, instead his power seemed wild and untamed.

“I shall not enjoy killing you, Emrys,” Nimueh shook her head. “The power you could wield if only you had the inclin ation. You could have changed everything and returned magic to its rightful place, but instead you choose to defend the prejudices of an intolerant, and unworthy man. You are nothing more than a lap dog.”

Arthur made a slight snuffling sound from the floor and Merlin lost his concentration as he looked down at the one person he couldn’t afford to fail.

Nimueh waved her hand and Merlin found himself forced to his knees beside the unconscious Prince.

“You have failed him, Emrys,” Nimueh smiled. “You have failed him again.”

Merlin couldn’t coherently explain the feeling that came over him; it was a rush of ice that burned white hot as the thought of failing Arthur even further clutched at his already wrecked heart. Whatever shadow passed over his face was enough to cause Nimueh to frown, a small flash of fear in her eyes.

Merlin, in a voice he didn’t even recognise as his own, roared, “ **Ic þe bebiede þæt þu abifest nu!** ” slamming his palms into the parquet floor as he did so.

A rumbling rose up out of the earth as the world began to shake violently around them. Nimueh raised her hands to the sky, the look of fear now more evident, as she began to chant in response to the spell Merlin had cast.

Glass shattered as windows burst, paintings being thrown from the walls as Kensington Palace bore the brunt of Merlin’s anger. Nimueh stumbled backwards as a particularly vicious tremor caused the room to feel like it was tilting.

Merlin, breathing hard, rose to his feet hurriedly, dragging a semi-conscious Arthur into his arms and awkwardly pulling him towards the door. Arthurwas a dead-weight and Merlin’s lungs burned with exertion, his muscles screaming as he just about managed to mano uever the two of them out of the way as a chandelier fell from the ceiling.

Nimueh’s voice rose an octave as she continued to chant and Merlin could feel a pull at the edge of his power, his magic beginning to drain from him as she called it to her own.

The world gave another lurch and Merlin was thrown to the floor, Arthur cradled beneath him as the sounds of destruction grew louder around them. Merlin barely had time to yell the first words that came into his head as the ceiling came crashing down.

 

**ooOOoo**

_A gas leak_ , the papers had said.

_It was a **miracle**  nobody had died._

_It was **pure luck**  that the Prince of Wales and his friend, fellow Albion student and former-hero Merlin Emrys, had been sheltered from the worst of the falling masonry by a  **fortuitously**  strong load-bearing beam._

Clarence House had sanitised and distilled the events of Merlin’s encounter with Nimueh until they had a story the public accepted with a balance of horror and relief. Annis took the truth and made it acceptable for the world

Even Clarence House didn’t have the truth.

Arthur stated that he was unconscious at the time of the destruction of part of Kensington Palace, and had no recollection of the events that led to Nimueh’s death.

Merlin had stated something similar.

Uther was horrified enough at the thought of Nimueh to accept both explanations (or lack thereof) without question, also sure that it was Nimueh’s power that had caused Morgana to collapse earlier in the evening.

When she had been released from hospital, Morgana had screamed at her brother when he told Merlin he was no longer considered a friend of the Pendragons. She’d begged Arthur to be reasonable, to understand that Merlin had saved their lives. Arthur had growled it was enough that he wasn’t handing Merlin over to Uther. Morgana had fallen silent at that, and Merlin had stood by silently as Arthur shattered  _her_  heart with his refusal to accept magic.

With a nod of his head, no mockery in the gesture, Merlin had turned away from the two people who had built him a new world and walked out of their lives.

Arthur was safe. That was enough.

It had to be.

 

**ooOOoo**

“’I’d rather not do this,” Merlin protested as he was pulled through the crowd by a sharp eyed Annis, his gown billowing behind him due to the speed she was moving.

“Merlin,” she snapped but didn’t halt their progress, “you both received first class degrees  _despite_  the number of incidents in your lives this year. You  _will_  stand next to the Prince and smile for thirty seconds while they take your photograph. Do you understand me?”

Merlin understood her perfectly but still didn’t want to agree. It was only the slightly hopeful look that Morgana shot him as he was tugged through the security cordon at the edge of Old Court that made him keep his mouth shut.

“Merlin!” Morgana cried, rushing towards him and throwing her arms around his neck. “Merlin, oh God, I’m so sorry about Arthur,” she whispered into his ear. “I’m so sorry about everything.”

Merlin pulled away with a curt nod. He couldn’t afford to fall apart at Morgana’s apologies, not when he’d spent months trying to rebuild a broken boy into something resembling his former self. His breathing sounded ragged to his own ears as his eyes finally landed on Arthur.

He’d seen him half an hour earlier as the Prince had accepted his degree from the Chancellor, smiling in that confident way that Merlin knew meant Arthur felt anything  _but_  confident. His heart had clenched the way it had every other time he’d seen Arthur around Albion, or heard his name on the news, or every time his phone rang…

But seeing him this close nearly took the strength from Merlin’s legs.

“Merlin,” Annis grabbed his arm again, pulling him next to Arthur, “stand here.”

Arthur turned to Merlin and smiled as he held out his hand, “Merlin, how good to see you.”

Merlin wanted to scream. He didn’t want Arthur to be able to pretend that everything was fine between them. But he braced himself for the warm touch of Arthur’s fingers before he allowed the handshake. Merlin flinched at the contact, his eyes drawn to the ring Arthur was wearing on his thumb. “Let’s get this over with,” he managed to force out eventually.

“Gladly,” Arthur smiled, but Merlin could see how fragile the façade was.

For five minutes Merlin allowed himself to be moulded into various poses as the Clarence House team created a tableau of happy relief between two friends who’d been through a lot together but had come out relatively unscathed.

“We’ve got enough,” Annis said eventually and Merlin dropped his head in relief.

“Right,” Merlin said after a moment. “Goodbye Arthur.”

Arthur remained silent, but pursed his lips.

“Fine,” Merlin said, pinching the bridge of his nose and turning to escape before Morgana could catch him again.

Arthur breathed loudly and caught Merlin’s arm. “You lied to me.”

Merlin swallowed. “I had to.”

Arthur ran a hand through his hair and leaned close to whisper, “You had to lie to  _me_? I trusted you with everything I had, Merlin, but you didn’t trust me enough to tell me… _that_.”

“I couldn’t tell you,” Merlin muttered, feeling that this really was  _not_  the time or place for this conversation. “You are loyal to your father-“

“ _Fuck_ ,” Arthur growled. “I was loyal to  _you_. Jesus Christ, Merlin. If nothing else I thought you were my  _friend_.” He let go of Merlin’s arm and walked away before Merlin could open his mouth to reply.

* * *

Merlin heard Arthur hammering on the doors sooner than he’d expected. Doing his best to ignore the frustrated shouts of his name he braced himself as he strode back into the study.

Morgause was leaning against the wall, breathing heavily, but she smiled wickedly when she saw Merlin appear. “I was hoping to have a bit more fun with the Prince before I killed you,” she shrugged, “but I suppose there might be something poetic about letting him watch  _you_  die this time around.”


	35. Chapter 35

“Is there a great long line of you then?” Merlin folded his arms; a perfect imitation of a petulant Arthur.  _Really?_ a tiny voice in his mind chastised him.  _You want Arthur to shut up but it’s okay for **you**  to play the role of Prince Prat?_

“What?” Morgause scowled.

“High Priestesses, or whatever you are?” He waved his hand dismissively, and seriously,  _what the fuck was he doing?_  “Do you all have one go each, and then when you fail to kill Arthur it’s the next one’s turn?”

Morgause smiled widely, tilting her head back as though she wanted to laugh. “You become more alike every time.” Then her eyes hardened. “What is it about  _him_  that makes you turn away from everything you are? Over and over again you have chosen to hide your powers, to shun your true nature, and for what?”

Merlin set his jaw. “I’ve already heard all this. The great big speech about how weak I am for siding with Arthur, how we’re all bound by a Fate that we have no control over, and how you’ve just been biding your time. But I want to know why you’re doing this now. Why go to all this trouble? Why…” Merlin trailed off as the seed of an idea sprouted in his mind “Why  _here_?” He gestured at the room around him.

Morgause twitched slightly and Merlin knew he was on to something.

“Nimueh chose Kensington.” Merlin frowned trying to work out where he was going with this theory. “My dreams started here, Morgana’s too. And now… _you_  chose to bring us here as well. What’s so special about here?” His magic tingled suddenly and he shivered slightly as delicate warmth trailed up his spine to nest at the base of his skull; it felt like a confirmation – he’d asked the right question. “Why is the Palace so important?”

Morgause pursed her lips and considered Merlin for a long moment. “The High Priestesses are the guardians of the Old Religion; each chosen for her ability to maintain and restore the balance of life and death. For years we numbered eight, awaiting the arrival of the ninth and final Priestess while around us Uther Pendragon razed our temple to the ground and  _purged_  the land of magic. “

Merlin frowned again. He hadn’t expected a history lesson from Morgause. He considered his options; he could attempt a powerful spell now, but his magic was still untested. Or he could allow Morgause to continue grandstanding, buying him some more time to concoct a plan.

“The ninth Priestess, she who is the final guardian of the Old Religion, must take her rightful place,” Morgause continued, “but she cannot do that while Arthur Pendragon li ves. There is magic woven into the earth in this place, Emrys, magic powerful enough to call a soul into the world if manipulated by a true Priestess.”

Merlin’s eyes widened. “Arthur was born here.”

“The magic that brought Arthur Pendragon into this world will be the same magic that pulls him from it,” Morgause smiled slightly. “The protection that has been granted to him through Fate will not be strong enough to counter the raw power of the Old Religion beneath our feet; there is no place on Earth where he is more vulnerable. Arthur’s death will restore the Ninth Priestess to her full power. And  _your_  death, Emrys, will be enough to return Nimueh to this world.”

The blood had drained from Merlin’s face as he’d listened to Morgause speak. “If Arthur is supposed to die here then what about France? The Sidhe? The Griffin?”

Morgau se smirked. “Oh, Emrys, do you really not understand?” She paused, scoffing at his silence. “Arthur was never going to die at the hands of anyone or anything other than a Priestess. Everything else that has happened was designed to test you, Emrys. To cement your loyalty to the Prince, and ensure that you would be by his side when the right time came. Today you once more demonstrated that you will do anything for him; defend his honour and his name until your last breath.”

“The interview-“

“Proved your faith in him, Emrys,” Morgause’s eyes narrowed dangerously, “You have too often let your heart rule your head, Emrys, and your power is not what it was when you challenged Nimueh. You have given too much of yourself, too much of your magic, to a man who does not deserve it. You will die in the knowledge that you failed to protect the Once and Future King, but you will also be the reason that magic is restored to its rightful place when the Ninth Priestess takes the throne.”

 _Rightful place_.  _Throne._ Morgause has used those words earlier. She’d said them to…

“Morgana?” Merlin gasped, understanding trickling into his consciousness.

“Morgana Pendragon has been denied her rightful place as Queen for too long,” Morgause snarled. “I have ensured her place on the throne before, and I  _will_  ensure it again by the time this day is through.”

“I won’t let you hurt either of them,” Merlin replied, drawing on his power, setting his jaw in determination as he stared coldly at the Priestess.

Morgause appeared unaffected. “Did you not feel it, Emrys?”

“Feel what?”

“Your power slipping away from you when Nimueh chanted?” Morgaus e drew herself up to her full height, her chin rising defiantly as she sneered at him. “I felt her begin the incantation, but could do nothing to help. You are not as strong as you were, Emrys, and with the magic of the Goddess surrounding you, you will not be able to resist for long.”

Merlin raised a hand, steeling himself for what he was inevitably choosing to do… _again_. He didn’t have a plan, but even if he could only temporarily incapacitate Morgause, that would be a good start.

His concentration, however, was thrown when the study door burst open. His head whipped towards the sound and he almost shouted in frustration at the sight of Arthur and Leon rushing in. At least Morgana appeared to have been spirited away to safety by Owain.

Morgause sighed loudly, her eyes flashing. Leon’s gun skipped from his fingers, just as Percy’s had done back at the hotel and the bod yguard was knocked to the floor. Merlin was relieved to see Leon was still breathing even though he landed heavily.

Arthur charged towards Morgause, but paused when she held her hands out before her and whispered. Arthur flinched, preparing himself to be hit by whatever spell she had just uttered. But it was not magic that caused the blood in his veins to freeze, it was the soft, broken gasp that came from Merlin who was standing to his left.

The Prince turned, watching in horror as Merlin raised his hands to his chest, his mouth open in a silent scream as he staggered backwards slightly.

All thoughts of danger and sorceresses tumbled from Arthur’s mind in an instant as he rushed towards Merlin and caught him just as the boy’s legs gave way beneath him.

“Merlin? Jesus, Merlin, what’s wrong?” Arthur lowered them both to the floor, clutching Merlin to h is chest as they landed heavily. He ran one hand over Merlin’s cheek as his eyes desperately searched for a clue as to what was happening. “Merlin!”

Merlin looked back at Arthur, his eyes watering as he tried to breath through the pain in his chest. His head was pounding and he could feel his magic being torn from him. It seemed that Morgause was succeeding where Nimueh had failed. He had to draw his lashes together as his eyes began to burn.

“What are you doing to him?” Arthur roared at Morgause, but didn’t move from Merlin.

“I’m taking something he doesn’t deserve,” Morgause sneered as she stopped whispering and curled her fingers towards her chest. “Something he no longer has any need for. Not when you’ve rejected him so fully. HIs magic will be restored elsewhere.”

Arthur huffed loudly as Merlin twitched violently before stilling c ompletely in his arms. “Merlin?” Arthur shook the boy lightly. “Merlin?” Panic set in as Merlin remained still but emitted a soft whimper. The Prince, breathing hard with fear, looked at Morgause. “Give it back to him! Give it back to him and you can have whatever you want!”

Arthur’s words came loud and clear to Merlin, cutting through the haze that had descended on his consciousness. He tried to open his mouth, but he felt drained of energy.

“You’re not in any position to bargain with me, Arthur Pendragon,” Morgause spat. “Emrys’ magic had been returned to the earth. When the final Priestess rediscovers her true power we will bring our sister back with the very magic used to destroy her.”

“Mmph,” Merlin managed to mutter as he cracked open his eyes. Arthur was staring at him with such horror on his face that Merlin was momentarily tempted to just close his ey es and pretend this wasn’t happening. But of course he wouldn’t,  _couldn’t_ , do that.

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered brokenly, his attention once more firmly drawn away from the sorceress. “Merlin, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I don't know what to do.”

“This has gone on long enough,” Morgause announced.

Merlin tried to lift his head, but it lolled uselessly. He couldn’t feel a shred of magic within him, instead his mind found only darkened corners, a startling emptiness in his bones. If his heart had the strength to break again it would have done at the hopelessness shining in Arthur’s eyes. Arthur wasn’t supposed to be helpless. Not when Merlin still had breath in his body.

Morgause raised her hands to the sky and began to chant once more. Merlin watched as Arthur stilled above him, panic coursing through the Prince’s eyes as wh atever Morgause was saying began to affect him.

Merlin willed himself to move, to think, to do  _anything_. This was not the way it was supposed to be. “No,” he whispered, his breath coming in sharp gasps.

**_Young Warlock. You must believe that you are powerful enough to stop her._ **

Merlin whimpered, the Dragon’s words too loud in his head, as Arthur’s strong grip around his chest loosened and the Prince began to list backwards. Merlin slipped out of his grasp and they landed, facing each other, devastation painted on both of their faces

**_Merlin. If you do not stop her then Arthur will die._ **

“I can’t,” Merlin hissed quietly as Morgause continued to chant, the air in the room crackling with tangible power. Distantly, Merlin thought that he could hear Morgana screaming.

**_Take it back, Young Warlock. Take your magic back._ **

“Arthur,” Merlin breathed as the Prince’s eyes slipped shut. “Arthur?”

Arthur’s lips parted slightly and a soft breath that sounded far too final to Merlin’s ears escaped.

“No,” Merlin whispered, barely aware that his eyes had reacted to Arthur’s stillness faster than his brain and a tear was already creeping into the corner of his lip as he spoke.

**_Merlin. You must do it now. I will soon be unable to help you. You must not let Arthur die._ **

Merlin gasped as the Dragon’s words hit him with a tangible force. He felt as if he was being pushed as he somehow staggered to his knees.

Morgause looked at him in surprise. “How?” she bellowed, breaking off her chant as her eyes grew larger.

Merlin wouldn’t have been able to answer her even if he could find the strength for words. He didn’t know how, but he could feel a familiar tingle in the tips of his fingers, every hair on the back of his neck standing to attention as magic, the comforting feel of his  _own_  magic, began to whisper around him.

Morgause raised a hand towards him, obviously intending to halt his progress.

Merlin jumped in surprise when Morgause stumbled forwards suddenly with a startled hiss. She whipped around looking for something, but what Merlin couldn’t tell.

“Who else here has magic?” Morgause turned to Merlin.

“What?” Merlin gasped out as he tried to pull the fabric of his magic back int o his soul where it belonged.

“It can’t be,” Morgause muttered. “Nimueh said he didn’t respond.” She let out another sound of surprise, this one more pained as she dropped to her knees.

Her contact with the ground seemed to release her control over the magic she had been holding and Merlin jerked violently as his magic rushed through his veins, warming him with immediate strength and relief. He scrabbled towards Arthur and pulled him close, his finger running to Arthur’s lips where only tiny puffs of air could be felt.

“Give him back to me, Morgause,” Merlin growled, his voice shaking with fury. “Give him back!”

“No,” Morgause shook her head fiercely. “Morgana must be allowed to take her place as Queen.” She began to chant again and Merlin could feel Arthur tremble lightly under his touch. “The Old Religion-“

“The Old Religion is dead.” A voice muttered from somewhere nearby, distorted by a sudden rush of air through the room.

Merlin tried to turn his head to see who had spoken, but the force of the gale held him in place.

Morgause shrieked and with a flash of golden light everything fell still.

Merlin breathed heavily as he opened his eyes. Morgause was nowhere to be seen, sheets of paper were almost-suspended mid flutter and Merlin realised that time was not flowing as it should.

He scrambled back towards Arthur, a broken sob rising unbidden from his chest as he noted that the Prince was still pale and unmoving. Merlin grasped Arthur’s face between his hands and leaned down to press their foreheads together. “Arthur, come back.”

“Merlin,” a soft voice called from behind him. Not the one from a moment ago; somet hing sweeter this time. He didn’t move, far too focused on the lifeless Arthur.

“Merlin,” the silky, female tone washed over his soul like a soothing balm and this time he did pull himself away from Arthur to look. But all he found was the empty room.

“Merlin, call Arthur back to you,” the voice said. “I know he’s stubborn, but he listens to  _you_ , even when he pretends not to. You belong at Arthur’s side. I’ve seen how much he needs you, how much you need him.”

Merlin’s heart clenched, but not unpleasantly; the voice ignited a sense of hope and Merlin would listen if it meant saving Arthur’s life.

“Arthur?” Merlin called, once more pressing his forehead to the Prince’s. “Arthur you need to come back to me. Please, Arthur.”

Arthur didn’t move beneath him.

“You ’re like two sides of the same coin, Merlin,” the voice whispered.

Those words rang deep within Merlin’s soul and he knew that he believed in them without reserve. “Arthur, come back to me,” he whispered this time. “If you don’t, I’ll follow you to the ends of the Earth and drag you back myself, you stubborn prat.” He let out a breathy laugh, edged with despair.

Arthur sucked in a breath and Merlin sagged in relief when Arthur’s eyes opened, the two of them pressed together closely enough to go cross-eyed.

“Merlin,” Arthur mumbled, clearly dazed as Merlin drew back. He was pouting slightly, as he was wont to do when he’d just woken up from a particularly deep sleep. “Merlin?”

Merlin clamped a hand over his own mouth, but whether it was to hide the smile that was threatening to split his face, or muffle the sob of relief that was desperate to break out he wasn’t sure.

“Merlin!” Arthur repeated, but this time his eyes widened and he pushed himself up on his elbows as alertness hit him.

Merlin, who was  _not_  feeling particularly alert, slithered off where he’d been half-sprawled across Arthur with all the grace of a gangly sack of potatoes. He lay there stupidly for a good few seconds, when suddenly he found Arthur looking down at him, the Prince’s fingers tangled in Merlin’s hair.

“Are you alright?” Arthur asked urgently. “Merlin, are you alright?”

“Yes,” Merlin breathed, his heart stuttering at the concern in Arthur’s eyes.

“Have you got your magic back?” Arthur asked, his frown deepening.

“Would you rather I hadn’t?” Merlin asked, not sure if he really wanted to as k that question, but finding it was all his mind was giving him.

Arthur’s features collapsed into devastation and he raised his hands to cover his face as he took a shuddering breath. Then, just as suddenly, his hands were back on Merlin; a light, reverent touch that skated along Merlin’s cheeks and back up through his hair.

Merlin inhaled sharply as Arthur leaned back down and rested his forehead against Merlin’s, strands of hair tangling between them as Arthur took another shaky breath.

“I can’t-“ Arthur whispered, his breath ghosting over Merlin’s lips. “I-“ He cut himself off by gently pressing his lips to Merlin’s. “I can’t let you go,” he mumbled against Merlin’s mouth. “I’m sorry and I-“

Merlin silenced him by applying the slightest amount of pressure in return.

A grumbling sound from across the room caused them to break apart.

Leon raised himself slowly onto his elbows, one hand to the side of his head as he groaned. His eyes moved slowly across the two boys in front of him. “No,” he grunted, “don’t worry about me.”


	36. Chapter 36

Gwen’s relieved sobs were still ringing in Merlin’s ears long minutes after he’d ended the phone call. His friends hadn’t been affected by Morgause’s magic in any way, but it was pure luck that they’d missed running into Morgana and Percy, otherwise they’d have inevitably tried to help and….

Merlin really didn’t want to think about ‘ _otherwise’._

He was sitting on the top step of the staircase in Kensington Palace, his fingertips rubbing measured circles into his temples as he stared at his feet. The air still fizzed slightly, scented with something not unlike ozone after a storm, but sweeter. At least his own magic was gradually beginning to settle, allowing warmth to slowly begin to heal his aching body. He really should have known that today was going to be a bad day; when he’d slowly clambered to his feet, using Arthur’s desk as an aid, he’d caught sight of a diary page informing him it was Tuesday. Merlin had almost forgotten how much he hated Tuesdays.

The cavalry, in the form of the Royal Security Team, had descended on Arthur’s study just after Leon had regained consciousness. Owain had alerted them to the danger the Prince was facing as he’d escorted Morgana from the building, and they should, by all rights, have arrived just after Arthur and Leon. However, it appeared that the doors that had mysteriously opened for Arthur and his bodyguard (despite Merlin sealing them) had been magically sealed once more. Merlin had no doubt that Morgause had arranged that purposefully; she’d had the strength to lift Merlin’s spell to ensure Arthur’s presence, but had used her own magic to keep help away.

The Security Team had immediately descended on Arthur and bundled him out of the building and off to Clarence House before he could so much as utter a syllable in protest. Merlin, due to the quick thinking and lightning reflexes of Leon, hadn’t been so viciously manhandled and had been spared the trip up The Mall. Merlin didn’t know what he would have done if he’d ended up being bundled into a car with Arthur.

“Merlin?”

Merlin was snapped out of his thoughts at the quiet voice and his head gave a particularly violent throb. “Leon.”

Leon ran a hand over his face, fatigue etched into his face as he slowly sat down next to Merlin. He was quiet for a long moment, clasping his hands together as he collected his thoughts.

Merlin instinctively knew what was coming before Leon spoke.  _Leon knew_.

“Merlin…”Leon trailed off, tilting his head slightly so he could look at the boy sitting silently beside him. “I’ve pledged to protect Arthur no matter the origin of the threat; whether the danger arises in the form of human action or magic makes no difference to my primary goal. You have saved his life more times than anyone should ever be asked to do. You endanger yourself to destroy these magical threats, and yet…”

“I have magic myself?” Merlin asked quietly when Leon trailed off.

Leon nodded, shrugging slightly.

Merlin sighed, running a hand through his hair tiredly. “Magic is like anything else.” He dropped his gaze to his shoelaces again. “It can be used for good, but if wielded by the wrong person it can be a weapon used for ill.”

Leon nodded again, clearly accepting Merlin’s explanation “He didn’t tell anyone, you know. About you having magic. He didn’t even tell me until today.”

Merlin searched Leon’s face carefully. “And are you going to tell the King?”

“Merlin, I would hope by now that you could see where my loyalties lie,” Leon said seriously. “We fight for the same man. I would never betray Arthur.”

Merlin believed him. “How are we supposed to explain what happened today? We can’t all claim we didn’t see anything again.”

“I think that’s exactly what Arthur intends to do,” Leon slowly stood up. “Now, I can’t put off taking you to Clarence House any longer.”

“Can’t you just say I left and you have no idea where I’ve run off to?” Merlin asked hopefully, but getting to his feet anyway.

“Surely you know by now that resistance is futile?”

“Morgana said that the first time I met her,” Merlin smiled slightly at the memory.

“Well she’s a very smart woman,” Leon replied as Merlin followed him slowly down t he stairs.

 _She’s a lot more than that_ , Merlin thought as he was shepherded into a car. He just hoped that she’d never find out.

 

**ooOOoo**

Morgana was huddled under a blanket, clutching a large mug (yes,  _mug_ ) of tea to her chest when Leon herded Merlin into the Royal apartments at Clarence House. She looked up and gave Merlin a watery smile as Leon left them alone.

“Are you alright?” Merlin asked, taking in her paler then usual complexion and the tremor that was visible in the way the tea sloshed slightly in her hand.

She nodded silently with a sigh. “Merlin, I don’t-“ she cut herself off by biting her lip. Her hands shook more violently as she moved to place the mug on the coffee table.

Merlin didn’t force her to continue; instead he sank into an armchair by the blazing fire and waited.

“You lost your magic,” she whispered eventually, looking over at him with wide eyes.

“Did Arthur tell you that?”

Morgana shook her head. “I felt it go, Merlin. I could feel the pain you were in, and there was nothing I could do about it.” She sniffled slightly and Merlin reached over to wrap a hand around her fingers. “I-I…I felt it when Arthur went too.” Her eyes were shining with unshed tears as she squeezed his hand in response.

Merlin’s heart clenched at her words. “He’s okay, Morgana. Arthur’s alive.”

“I know,” her face crumpled slightly and she ran her free hand over her eyes. “I know he is. I could hear you calling him, in my head. But it wasn’t just you I heard, Merlin.”

“You heard her too?” Merlin frowned. “But there was nobody there. Just a voice in my head.”

One tear rolled down Morgana’s cheek. “Did she sound familiar to you?”

Merlin thought back to the soothing voice that her coaxed him to keep trying. “She did, but I  _felt_  her more than I heard her voice. I felt like she knew  _me_ , that she knew Arthur.”

Morgana bit her lip again, but Merlin was sure there was the tiniest smile just at the corner of her lips. “Merlin, it was my  _mother_.”

 

**ooOOoo**

“Merlin?” Leon called, startling the boy out of the doze he’d fallen into.

Merlin looked around wildly, his gaze falling on the still-sleeping Morgana opposite him before locating Leon by the door. “Mmph?”

“Sorry,” Leon looked slightly abashed. “Arthur’s still in with his father. But he’s asked that you wait – he wants to talk to you.”

Merlin’s whole body felt stiff, as if he’d run for miles and miles without stopping. He and Morgana had talked for hours. He’d told her about the presence of another magic user, and she’d been equally confused as to who it could have been. He told her about the Dragon, promising her a visit to him soon. They’d talked about everything, except for the secret Merlin intended to guard with his life; Morgana didn’t need to know about Morgause’s plans for her. Not yet, anywa y. As the afternoon had bled into earl evening they’d both dropped off, powerless against the soporific effect of the open fireplace.

Merlin yawned widely as Leon waited for an answer. “Actually, Leon,” Merlin ran his hands up his cheeks and into his hair, “I’d like to leave, please.”

Leon sighed slightly, but Merlin was sure he’d been expecting that answer. “I’ll let Arthur know and arrange for you to be taken back to the hotel.”

“No,” Merlin shook his head. “I’m going to stay with Gwen and Lance. I’ll just get the tube, or a taxi .”

“Merlin, I-“

“And please don’t tell Arthur until I’ve left,” Merlin stood up. He cast a fond glance at Morgana and walked towards Leon.

Leon looked marginally disappointed but nodded. “If that’s what you want.”

Merlin sighed. “It is.”

 _God,_ how he wished that was true.

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin knew he was taking a risk by doubling back on himself and returning to Hyde Park as it meant being in the vicinity of Kensington Palace. He just hoped that the Security Team was still engaged over at Clarence House and therefore wouldn’t notice just one more visitor traipsing through the Park a week before Christmas.

He walked briskly along the frosty path, thankful that someone had gritted the pavement as a precaution. He shivered slightly, his coat having been left at the hotel, and he gazed longingly at the cheerful, warm faces of the people in the Lido café.

He shuffled down to the ‘door’ in the Serpentine Bridge as quickly as possible and let himself in. He grabbed the now familiar torch with a whispered  _Bæl on bryne._ The flames hadn’t even fully ignited before he began to hurry through the tunnel towards the Dragon.

“There you are,” the Dragon huffed slightly as Merlin appeared.

“I need you to tell me everything about the past,” Merlin practically shouted, cutting over the Dragon with a firm belief that pleasantries were unnecessary right then. “Not just the vague, cryptic things you’ve said before, but important things. Why didn’t you tell me about Morgause?”

The Dragon was silent for a long moment. “I am bound by the circle of Fate just as much as you, Young Warlock. If we stray too far outside of those boundaries then the consequences can be disastrous. I could not reveal the things you were not ready to hear. I took a grave risk by helping you to retrieve your magic today, Merlin.”

“How did you do that?” Merlin asked, genuinely interested in the answer.

“We are kin, of s orts, Young Warlock,” the Dragon sighed. “But it is not yet the time for you to know more.”

“I suppose you won’t be able to tell me who else used magic tonight?” Merlin crossed one arm over his chest, trying to control the tension headache building behind his eyes.

“You are correct, Merlin,” the Dragon ducked his head slightly. “You will find the magic user in due course, but only when Fate decides it is time for them to be revealed to you.”

Merlin scoffed.

“Do not sneer at Fate, Merlin,” the Dragon said, suddenly more serious than Merlin had ever heard him. “She does not like to be taunted, and she can be a fickle friend indeed.”

Merlin sobered slightly, even though part of him thought that had sounded ridiculous.

“Why are you not with the Prince?” The Dragon asked, squinting his eyes at Merlin in a definite glower. “You were reunited, after all.”

“I’m not speaking to you about my… _relationship_  with Arthur,” Merlin shook his head, feeling his cheeks heating slightly at the absurdity.

“I’m glad to hear that, Young Warlock,” the Dragon replied, with just a hint of horror colouring his words. “There are some things even  _I_ do not wish to know about.”

 

**ooOOoo**

“Merlin, tell me I didn’t just see you come  _out_  of the bridge.”

Merlin squeaked slightly at the sound of the voice, stumbling in surprise on the frosty grass. He held out his hands to prepare for a rough landing, but a hand grasping his arm abruptly halted his descent.

“A-Arthur,” Merlin stuttered as he saw the Prince looking at him questioningly, from underneath the hood of a ratty old coat Merlin had never seen before. Not that he  _cared_ , obviously. He manoeuvred his arm out of Arthur’s grasp and cleared his throat.

Arthur pursed his lips as he returned his arm to his side. “I asked you to wait.”

Merlin bristled at the Prince’s accusatory tone. “I was tired. I wanted to go home.”

Arthur scoffed. “Oh, yeah. I forgot that you lived under a bridge.”

Merlin scowled.

“Little Billy Goats Gruff are you?” Arthur folded his arms.

“They  _crossed_  the bridge,” Merlin folded his arms too. “It was the  _troll_  that lived underneath it.” He narrowed his eyes. “ _Prat_.”

Arthur’s expression morphed into outrage. “Would you rather I called you a troll then?”

“I’d rather you just left me alone,” Merlin squared his shoulders and walked past Arthur, keeping his eyes on the ground. He told himself this was because he didn’t want to trip, not because he didn’t dare catch Arthur’s eye again.

“Merlin.”

It was nothing more than a tired sigh really, but it had the power to still Merlin immediately.

“Merlin, don’t leave,” Arthur’s hand once more reached out and wrapped around Merlin’s wrist.

Merlin shivered.  _It was from the cold. Yes, that was why. It was cold, for fuck’s sake. Of course he shivered. It had nothing to do with the fact that he could feel the heat from Arthur’s hand burning through two layers of clothing even in the bitter December twilight. Oh great, now he was overly-romanticising the fact it was simply cold and dark._

 

“Merlin?”

Merlin made the mistake of looking at Arthur. A gut-wrenchingly familiar expression that clearly stated ‘ _I think you’re a bit mad and having a conversation with yourself in your head’_  shone on the Prince’s face.

“Arthur, I have to go,” Merlin said, invoking as much determination into his voice as possible.

“Merlin,” Arthur’s vocabulary seemed to have reduced down to one word, and yet there was so much  _meaning_  there that it almost stopped Merlin’s breath. But now wasn’t the time to give into Arthur; not after everything that had happened. It was difficult to remember you believed you were two sides of the same  _anything_  when you were sniping at each other like toddlers.

“Arthur,” Merlin removed Arthur’s fingers from his ar m. “Arthur, it’s been a very long day. Gwen and Lance are going to freak out until they’ve got me safely tucked up on a sofa bed. Morgana needs you. You should be with your family tonight.”

Arthur sucked a breath in through his nose, one hand carding through his hair knocking the hood down as he did so. “Merlin, I-“

“I’m exhausted, Arthur,” Merlin shook his head. “You’re safe, and Morgana’s safe, but I can’t…” He closed his eyes, trying not think of the  _I can’t_  Arthur had whispered against his lips earlier. “I can’t ask for any more than that.” He caught Arthur’s frown. “And neither can you.”

Arthur opened his mouth to reply, but ultimately remained silent.

“Goodbye, Arthur,” Merlin smiled sadly, willing his voice not to tremble. He turned slowly and strode away from Arthur, keeping his head held as high as he navigated around chatting families clutching large bags filled with presents.

As he hurried past a group of school children angelically singing their way through  _Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,_  Merlin had never felt less festive in his life.

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin was counting the headlights that lit up the living room of the small flat when he heard the bedroom door open down the hall. The soft pad of feet on carpet alerted him to his visitor before they spoke.

“Merlin?” Gwen’s voice was soft, but alert. Merlin guessed he hadn’t been the only one unable to sleep.

He only considered feigning sleep for a split second. “Yes, Gwen?”

Gwen didn’t answer, she just shuffled into the room and sat down on the edge of the fold-out bed, lifting her legs onto the mattress so she could cover her bare feet with the extra blanket.

“Can’t sleep?” Merlin ventured as he sat up and leaned against the back of the sofa.

“I’m worried about you, Merlin,” she replied quietly, d odging his question in favour of sending a flutter of guilt to his stomach instead.

“I told you, I’m fine,” Merlin shrugged, ignoring the way the words felt like they wanted to slap him on the back of the head for lying to his best friend…. _again_. “No lasting effects from Morgause. I’m just tired.”

“I’m not talking about Morgause,” Gwen shuddered at the name. “I’m talking about you. And Arthur.”

“ _Gwen_ ,” he muttered warningly.

“No, Merlin,” Gwen grabbed his hands tightly. “For nearly a  _year_  I’ve stood by and supported you while you’ve pretended that you don’t care about what Arthur said to you. I know how much he hurt you, Merlin, but I also know that you understand how hurt he was too.”

Merlin could see a loose thread i n the duvet cover and his fingers twitched under Gwen’s with the need to grab it and twist it into a knot. She held firm.

“You said that Arthur was the boy who cares too much,” Gwen continued. “But so are you, Merlin. So I understand that today can’t have been easy for you. You can fob me off again,” she sighed loudly, “or you can tell me what actually happened today. The parts between you and Arthur, not the part where Morgause tried to kill you.” She shivered once more. “I don’t need to hear that again.”

Merlin was exhausted. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Arthur. It wasn’t just physical lethargy though; it was a soul-deep tiredness that permeated every thought he had and every breath he took. Arthur’s words, the look in his eyes when he’d begged Merlin to tell him he  _didn’t_  have magic had weighed heavy on his mind for months. “I just can’t do it, Gwen.”

“Do what?” Gwen asked. “Be with him?”

“Yeah,” Merlin whispered and he felt his throat constrict. “Or be without him.”

Gwen stayed silent, giving Merlin the time to decide what he wanted to say next.

“I feel like there’s no choice about him,” Merlin continued eventually, staring at the striped material of the bedspread. “There’s just too much about destiny and fate and…” he broke off with a shuddering sigh. “What about what  _I_  want?”

“What  _do_  you want?” Gwen asked carefully.

Merlin shrugged, a soft slightly hysterical laugh bubbling out of his mouth. “Arthur.”

Gwen frowned. “Merlin, you’re not making very much sense.”

“ _Nothing_  makes sense, Gwen,” Merlin twisted a hand out of Gwen’s grasp and scrubbed it over his face. “That’s the point. Nothing in my life makes any sense anymore.”

“Merlin, what happened today?”

Merlin looked at her properly for the first time since he’d returned from Hyde Park. Her eyes, even in the semi-darkness of the living room, still looked puffy and raw from crying, Lance had told him how Gwen had been the one to find an unconscious Percy in the hotel room, and that she’d only allowed herself to break down and cry when she knew that everyone was safe. He couldn’t lie to such a wonderful girl. Not anymore.

“Gwen, I thought he was dead,” Merlin’s voice cracked on the last word, but he ploughed on regardless, because if he stopped he didn’t think he’d have the courage to start again. “When Morgause w as chanting I was completely powerless. All I could do was lie there and watch him slip away.”

Gwen sniffled and clutched his hand tighter.

“He’d begged her to give back my magic, Gwen,” Merlin whispered. “ _Begged_  her. What am I supposed to think about that?” His throat was aching with the effort to contain the misery that wanted to overwhelm him. “He kissed me.”

Gwen sucked in a breath. “Oh, Merlin.”

“Said he couldn’t let me go.” Merlin did sob slightly at that. He wrenched his other hand from Gwen’s grasp and brought it up to his mouth.

“Sweetheart,” Gwen sighed, tears on her own cheeks as she put an arm around him and pulled him close. “Why did you run away from him?”

“Because I’m dangerous.”

Gwen jerked away from him and looked at him in horror. “No, Merlin,” her gaze were darting all over his face. “Never say that.”

“Arthur is going to be the greatest King the world has ever known.” Merlin was still sure of that. “He can’t have someone like me at his side. That’s not how these things work. He has a duty to his role as Prince. He has a duty to his people. I’m a threat to all of that.”

Gwen was silent for a long moment. “No,” she whispered eventually. “You’re not a threat, Merlin. You’re the opportunity for change. If Arthur is to be the great King you believe he can be, then he will need love and trust at his side to support him when he’s right, but to stop him when he’s wrong. And what kind of king would his people want? One that would stand up and fight for what he believes to be right? Or one who conforms to expectati ons?”

Merlin stared at her for a long moment as he allowed her words to permeate the haze in his mind. “You’re a smart one, Gwen Smith,” he croaked out hoarsely.

Gwen smiled softly. “I know. Just remember that when Arthur’s looking for advisors in the future.” She patted him on the knee as she stood up. “I think I’d be quite good at telling a King what to do.”

Merlin laughed despite the tears that still pooled in the corners of his eyes. “Goodnight, Gwen.”

“Goodnight, Merlin,” she said softly as she headed for her bedroom. “I know you’ll make the right choice.”

 

**ooOOoo**

 

“Who is  ** _that_**?” Hunith grumbled as she put down the knife she’d been using to chop carrots.

“I’ll get it, Mum, don’t worry,” Merlin said. Using it as an opportunity to get away from the small mountain of sprouts Hunith had asked him to pull from their stalks. He had no idea why there were always so many sprouts. He  _hated_  sprouts and Hunith wasn’t that fond of them either.

“If it’s Nerys, tell her I’ve gone out and won’t be back until tomorrow,” Hunith called softly as Merlin left the kitchen. “We are  _not_  watching  _An Officer and a Gentleman_ again!”

Merlin snickered as he opened the door. His smile froze, however, when he saw a sheepish looking Owain standing there.

“Arthur’s not here,” Owain sai d quickly as Merlin opened his mouth to speak. “But he wanted you to have this.” He held out an ivory A4 envelope, Merlin’s name written in neatly curling script in the middle.

Merlin hesitated before taking it. “He couldn’t just post it?”

Owain smiled slightly. “He doesn’t trust Royal Mail.”

“Right,” Merlin replied slowly.

“Well then,” Owain stuck his hand out and Merlin shook it. “Merry Christmas, Merlin.”

“Merry Christmas, Owain,” Merlin replied as he watched the man climb into a horribly familiar black car and drive away from the cottage.

He stood on the front step for a long moment, just staring stupidly at the envelope in his hand.

“Merlin?” Hunith called from the kitche n. “You’re letting all the heat out.”

Merlin shut the door hurriedly as he shook his head to clear it. Clutching the envelope tightly he walked back to the kitchen without removing his eyes from the curving ink spelling out Merlin W Emrys.

“What’s that, love?” Hunith asked, gesturing at the envelope with yet another carrot.

“It’s from Arthur.” Merlin finally looked up and met his mother’s eyes.

“Oh,” Hunith said softly. “Was he at-“

“No,” Merlin shook his head. “Owain brought it. Arthur will be at Sandringham.” He reached his hand around the doorframe into the hallway and snagged his coat from the hook. “I’m going to go…” he trailed off and looked towards the end of the garden.

Hunith nodded, reaching out to run her hand gently through his hair. “I love you, darling boy.”

“I love you too.” Merlin kissed her on the cheek before opening the back door and stepping out into the chilly afternoon.

He hadn’t heard from Arthur since Hyde Park, and even after Gwen’s rousing words Merlin hadn’t been able to make himself actually pick up his phone and call Arthur.

Reaching the boundary wall, Merlin shimmied onto it so his back was to the house and he had the fields in front of him.  _This_  was where he’d sat when his mum had first told him that he had to keep his magic, the same place where he’d opened the letter telling him he’d been accepted into Albion, and now it seemed it was going to be the spot that defined his relationship with a prince.

With slightly shaking fingers Merlin opened the envelope. He looked i nside, frowning as he saw something small and oddly shaped resting in the bottom left-hand corner.

He reached in and pulled out a small plastic bird. For a moment he stared at it stupidly, but then his stomach flipped over when he realised it was the plastic robin that had sat proudly atop the Yule Log he’d taken to Sandringham two years earlier.

 _Two years_ , he thought with a sigh. “Has it really been two years?”

He set the robin down gently on the wall next to him and reached in to retrieve a sheaf of paper, the same neat handwriting covering each page. He looked at the printed top line of the header on the first page and his breath caught in his throat at the confirmation.

**From: The Desk of HRH The Prince of Wales**


	37. Chapter 37

Merlin placed the envelope down on the wall, tucking it slightly underneath his thigh so that it wouldn’t blow away in a gust of wind. He ran his fingers lightly over the curling script on the top sheet of the letter, the black ink of the fountain pen (and Merlin knew  _exactly_  which pen this was having seen Arthur use it to sign anything official or binding in his role as Prince of Wales) scored into defined grooves on the thick paper.

His magic actually tingled in anticipation as he took a deep breath. He wasn’t proud of himself for running away from Arthur - because that is what he truly had been doing –  _running away_  – but he also hadn’t been prepared to have a conversation with Arthur about everything that had happened in a park full of Christmas shoppers  _and_  with Leon inevitably hovering behind a tree nearby.

Gwen’s words had done exactly as she intended; they’d made Merlin stop and think about everything that had happened. Really made him think about the fact that Arthur, despite the cruel words and gestures in January, was still the most  _brilliant_ person Merlin had ever met. Arthur who had risked the ire of Leon to sneak across Albion to see Merlin, Arthur who was ready to declare a relationship that went against tradition and constitution, Arthur who had entrusted Merlin with every part of himself.

Arthur had been an idiot, but,  _fuck,_  so had Merlin. He took another steadying breath, cursing himself for being a complete girl about reading a letter. If his thoughts strayed to Lizzy Bennet and Mr Darcy it was only because he was an English Literature grad.

**From: The Desk of HRH The Prince of Wales**

 

_Merlin,_

_Back at the beginning you told me that I was ‘quite monosyllabic for a future figurehead’, and I’ve demonstrated, on a number of occasions, that you were quite correct in that estimation. You were also completely accurate every single time you called me a prat, or a clotpole, or any of those other (quite frankly) ridiculous words you came up with._

_However, one thing I had never considered myself to be was a coward. Yet, once again you proved me wrong. I am a coward; not when it comes to speaking in front of thousands, or taking on any of the new, and numerous, duties that are being added to my remit as Prince of Wales on a daily basis. But when it comes to you I have shown myself to be nothing more than a pathetic hypocrite._

_I know that any apology I try to make to you now will sound like a platitude. But I will keep apologising until you believe that every syllable I utter is laced with a truth that is etched into my soul – I am truly sorry for every cruel word that crossed my lips in your presence, and for the ones I continued to spout even after I knew you were gone. I don’t want to even try to justify the things I said because I don’t deserve that. Only allow me to say that those words were spoken in temper and out of fear; fear that I hadn’t given you cause to feel that you could trust me with the knowledge of something that is such an important part of you, fear that I hadn’t shown you clearly enough that I truly was not like my father. Fear that I had failed you, Merlin. And fail you is what I have done._

_If you hadn’t shown supreme idiocy in Meribel then I would be dead (you’re the bravest man I’ve ever met, Merlin, but you’re still an idiot for throwing yourself into harm’s way for me). But more importantly, if you hadn’t come hurtling into my life then I would be something worse than dead. I would still be spoilt, arrogant Arthur Pendragon to everyone but those closest to me. I would still think the world revolved around me at Albion, not allowing myself to admit that I was the loneliest boy there. I would still be floundering, not realising that being a prince **isn’t** a burden, but instead is a role that I have been lucky enough to be born into – a role that will give me the opportunity to correct the mistakes of the past and move the monarchy forward into a new age. A  **better**  age._

_I swore I would give you everything I had, Merlin, and I still mean that. If, one day, you do find yourself able to forgive me for acting like the most prattish, arrogant, bloody idiot ever to live then I will still be here, still waiting for that chance. The thought of announcing to the world that I am in love with you doesn’t scare me in the slightest; my father knows how I still feel about you, even though I’ve made it clear to him that we’re not together anymore. I think we’ve met the media at their worst already, don’t you?_

_What **does**  terrify me is the thought that I’ve lost you completely because I was too stupid to listen; you always did say I didn’t listen enough. You are, and always will be, the truest friend I have ever had, and I am incredibly lucky that I was allowed to call you mine even for a short time._

_My father’s stance on magic will never change, but I am not my father, Merlin, and one day I will be King. The Advisory Council continues to exist, but I swear to you that I will ensure that their power is not misused. I would never give your secret away to anyone, but if you wanted to shout from the rooftops that you have magic then I would stand beside you as you did so. I never want you to be afraid of who you are, nor Morgana, nor anyone who looks to me for guidance as King or friend._

_I am a coward for not saying all this to you in person, Merlin, but the thought of saying it all wrong, of missing something important, scared me more than you rejecting me after reading the words I’ve spent so long trying to perfect. Because you deserve perfection, Merlin, or as close as anyone could ever come to it._

_Please apologise to your mother for my appropriation of the robin. It was never mine to take – which is a habit I seem to develop when it comes to things your mother loves._

_I really do hope that you have had a Merry Christmas, and that a Pendragon hasn’t ruined it for you again._

_Yours (so very, very much **yours** )_,

 

_Arthur_

 

Merlin clutched the paper tightly, his fingers curling impressions into the edges as his grip tightened. He exhaled a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding and dropped the pages onto his lap. He ran his hands across his face, not really surprised when the tips of his fingers came back damp.

“Bloody  _Hell_ , Arthur!” He shouted, his lungs burning as the words ricocheted through the valley. Groaning in frustration he pressed the heels of his hands to his cheekbones and pushed, as if he could somehow stuff all of his emotions back inside. Emotions that were threatening to overwhelm him spectacularly if he continued to think about Arthur.

_Bloody Arthur, with his bloody need to be good at everything….even writing **bloody** letters._

Merlin looked down at the last line –  _Yours (so very, very much **yours** ). _He stared at the words for all of three seconds before he was grabbing the envelope, the letter and the robin, and sliding off the wall, not caring that the sharp stones dug into his legs as he did so.

“Mum!” He yelled as he ran towards the house. “Mum!”

Hunith threw open the door to the kitchen just as Merlin approached. “Merlin! What’s wrong?”

“Mum,” he panted, slightly out of breath. “Mum, I’ve made a mistake.”

Hunith looked at him in silence, her face softening into understanding. “I know you have, my boy.”

“I need to call him, Mum.” A ridiculous smile broke out on his face despite the fact he could still taste salt on his lips. He ran into the house, tripping slightly as he hurried up the narrow stairs to his bedroom trying to stuff the paper and the robin b ack inside the envelope at the same time.

He grabbed his mobile from his desk and dialled a number he hadn’t called in months. He was glad now that he’d kept the outlandish phone and its contact list intact. His knee was bouncing up and down as he sat on the edge of his bed.

**_The person you have called is not available. Please try again later._ **

Merlin stabbed at the end call button in frustration. He couldn’t leave Arthur a voicemail even if he wanted to.

Wait.  _Morgana_.

He called up the Princess’s name quickly, sighing in relief when the call rang out.

“Merlin!”

“Morgana! Merry Christmas! I need to speak to Arthur!” he wheezed out hurriedly. Clearly manners were so ingrained he had to wish her a festive greeting before he could get to the point.

Morgana didn’t seem to notice. “Merlin, is Arthur with you?”

Merlin’s nervous jiggling stilled instantly. “What?’

“Merlin, Arthur’s not here.” The worry in her voice was suddenly evident. “We haven’t seen him since last night. The only reason Uther isn’t having a meltdown is because it looks like Leon’s gone with him.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” Merlin demanded, his happiness evaporating instantly.

“Merlin…” Morgana trailed off with a sigh. “I didn’t want to worry you. Not when things aren’t good between you. Leon’s not answering , but we know he’ll call when he can.”

“Do you have any idea where he’s gone?”

“No. He didn’t even tell Gwaine, who he tells  _everything_  to now,” Morgana replie d.

Merlin refused to acknowledge the way his heart clenched at that. “So he said nothing?”

“He was in Uther’s study for most of the day yesterday,” Morgana replied. “I don’t know what they talked about, but he seemed fine at dinner last night.”

“Fuck,” Merlin breathed. “Morgana, he said he told him.”

“Told him? Told h-  _oh_ ,” Morgana gasped. “But Uther hasn’t said anything about it. I thought he’d…Oh God, Merlin, that’s why Uther’s not screaming at everyone – he  _knew_  Arthur was probably going to run.”

“Well he’s not here, Morgana,” Merlin ran a hand through his hair, tugging on the strands as he did so. “ _Fuck_ …Uther really knows and he’s not….I don’t know… _exploded_?”

“Bloody hell,” Morgana breathed. “Do you think he’s gone back to London?”

Merlin snapped to his feet suddenly. “No,” he replied, already grabbing the envelope back up the desk and thundering back down the stairs. “I think I know where he is.”

“Where?”

“I’ll call you when I find him.”

“ _Merlin I-“_

Merlin hung up and stuffed the mobile into his coat pocket.

“Merlin!” Hunith sighed. “What have I told you about not running down the stairs? You’re like a herd of elephants.”

“Mum, I need to go!”

“Merlin, it’s Christmas.”

“Mum, it’s  _Arthur_.”

“Mer-“

“Mum.” He grabbed her shoulders, the envelope hanging awkwardly from his fingers as he clung to her. “I really have to go.”

She shook her head slowly, but pulled him in for a hug. “I hope you don’t think you’re getting out of preparing all this food at some point?” She tried to frown, but Merlin could see a smile breaking through. “I want  _both of you_  in that kitchen peeling vegetables, alright?”

“I promise,” Merlin grinned manically. “I love you!” He ran into the kitchen and out through the back door once more. He hurtled towards the boundary wall, throwing himself over the stones with practised ease.

The second he landed, only a slight skid on the damp grass, he took a sharp left and hurried down the hill, his target in sight at the bottom.

“Will!” Merlin yelled as he got closer to his friend’s garden, the famous conservatory looming up, stark white in the morning’s frost. “Will!”

Will, who was in said conservatory, almost dropped his bowl of cereal as his best friend barrelled towards the PVC doors. He scrambled to his feet, unlocked and opened the double doors, not entirely sure that Merlin would be able to stop before he crashed straight through them.

“Will!” Merlin panted, completely out of breath. “Will, I need your car!”

“What?” Will asked, stupefied as to why Merlin was demanding a vehicle on Christmas morning. “Why?”

“Arthur,” was all Merlin managed to gasp out.

“Merlin, you haven’t driven in two years.” Will shook his head.

“I know, I know,” he waved his hand, fanning his red cheeks slightly with the envelope. “But I really need to go somewhere, and I know my Mum is still paying to keep me on your insurance in case you can persuade me to come int o Cardiff to find a job. I am begging you, as your oldest friend,  _please_ can I have your car?”

Will looked at him for a long moment and Merlin knew he must look completely mad. But it was testament to the strength and length of their friendship that Will eventually gave a long suffering sigh and said, “Fine, but if I end up sitting between our mothers watching  _another_  eighties film tonight you and I will no longer be friends. Got it?”

“Got it!” Merlin nodded with a grin as he caught the keys Will threw at him.

“Now, go, quickly,” Will said, shoving Merlin out of the front door, “before Mum catches you here and makes you stay for a slice of cake.”

“Will, it’s not even ten o clock yet,” Merlin laughed slightly as he stumbled towards Will’s little car.

“Yeah, but you know Mum,” Will waved a hand from the doorway, not remotely concerned about showing his dinosaur pyjamas off to the village, “anytime is cake time.”

“Merry Christmas, Will,” Merlin smiled as he unlocked the car and slid into the driver’s seat.

‘Merry Christmas, mate,” Will grinned. “There better be a good present waiting for me at you mum’s house.” He waved once more and disappeared back inside the house.

Merlin tried to call Arthur once more, just in case he answered.

He didn’t – it went straight through to the recorded message again. Leon’s phone did the same, and Owain’s just rang out with no answer.

Merlin braced himself, expelling a loud hiss of air through his lips as he went through a mental checklist on how to drive. He turned the key in the ignition, pleased when it grumbled into life immediately and the petrol gauge informed him that he’d at least get out of Wales before he’d have to stop for fuel.

He reversed off the drive with only minimum difficulty, ignoring the fact that Will shot him an arched eyebrow from the living room window when the car stalled as it slipped off the kerb.

“You bloody better be there, Arthur,” Merlin mumbled to himself as he guided the car out of the village and onto the practically empty main road that would take him to the M4.

He jabbed at the radio, hoping some festive music would settle his nerves, and make him feel slightly better about running out on his mother on Christmas Day.

But festive music wasn’t what he got.

He snorted with laughter when a presenter’s voice blared through the car’s tinny speakers, announcing the beginning of ‘Eighties Hour’. And it was with that sign from the universe, and a grin on his face, that Merlin headed for the toll bridge; John Farnham singing away in the background.

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin had begun to lose his nerve somewhere between Manchester and Penrith. He’d been in the middle of paying for petrol when he’d suddenly gone from being absolutely certain that Arthur had hidden himself away at Balmoral to thinking that maybe Morgana’s guess had been right. What if Arthur was just in his bedroom at one of the palaces in London?

Merlin  _still_  thought it was ridiculous to have that many bedrooms in one city, but that was not really something to focus on when he was getting closer and closer to Arthur, or  _not_  Arthur, with every mile he covered.

It was coming up to seven o’clock by the time Merlin found himself outside of the Estate’s gates; the intricate ironwork seeming so familiar to him this time. He drove slowly up to the gate before he realised that he had no way of getting in.

A man, wearing a frown and wh at looked like a threatening weapon, came and stood next to the car. Merlin fumbled around in the dark looking for the handle to roll the window down with; which, when he did find it, was completely jammed and he had to open the door anyway.

“Can I help you, sir?” The man asked in an impossibly deep voice.

“Erm…” Merlin stumbled over what to say. “Er, I’m looking for my friend. Arthur.  _Oh_ , His Royal Highness. The Prince?”

“Aye, I know who you mean,” the man replied. “But the Prince is at Sandringham for Christmas.”

“But, he’s not!” Merlin shook his head vehemently. “Please, I need to speak to him. If Arthur’s here, then Leon is here as well. Please could you just try and let Leon know I’m here. I’ll wait.”

The man’s frown grew deeper. “I’m afraid I can’t let you park here.”

“Okay,” Merlin replied. “I’ll go and find somewhere to wait. But can you please just let someone know I’m here?”

The man didn’t say anything, just walked off and let himself back into the small hut by the gate.

“Great,” Merlin sighed as he totally botched a three point turn and stalled the engine again. He frowned as he saw his phone lying on the seat next to him. He picked it up and dialled quickly.

“Merlin, please tell me you’re in bloody Scotland,” Morgana demanded hurriedly as she answered the phone.

“I’m in Scotland.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Morgana sighed in relief. “Leon called about twenty minutes ago. They’re at Balmoral, Merlin. You were right. I was just about to let you know.”

“I can’t get in, Morgana,” Merlin sighed, h is stomach twisting at the thought of being so close, but not able to complete the journey. “They won’t let me through the gates.”

“Oh, won’t they?” Morgana snapped. “Right, we’ll see about that.”

She hung up before Merlin could reply. He turned the key in the ignition again, the car groaning back to life just as the man at the gate waved at him to drive over. Merlin dutifully drove over and opened the door once more.

“Sorry about that, sir,” the man apologised, looking chastened. “I wasn’t aware of who you were.”

Merlin didn’t want to know what Morgana had said to the man, but he could see the tips of the man’s ears were pink.

Morgana Pendragon: threatening men without question for twenty-five years.

“Oh no, it’s fine,” Merlin smiled slightly, still worried that the man could kill him quite swiftly if he said the wrong thing.

The man ducked his head slightly and Merlin soon found the gates opening to admit him entrance to the long driveway that would lead him to the House.

He waved a quick thank you at the guard before guiding the car slowly and carefully along the road. He’d remembered Owain’s warning about wildlife, and swerving for a frolicking deer at this stage would have been the final blow to his increasingly fraught nerves. He practically inched up the driveway, calming only slightly when he saw welcoming lights in some of the windows.

And then promptly losing all sense of calm once more when he realised that he was about to see Arthur and had absolutely no idea what he was going to say.

Why was it that Merlin was suddenly more terrified of a conversation with Arthur than of facing any number of megalomaniac H igh Priestesses? He started to think he might actually be suffering from a mental affliction. Or, more worryingly, he’d just transformed into the whining, miserable heroine he swore he would never become

Either way it wasn’t great.

He parked the small car behind the familiar navy Land Rover, the gravel crunching awfully loudly under the tyres, and got out of the car.

The cold air hit him suddenly and he realised how lucky he’d been to not encounter too much ice on the roads. “Fuck, that’s cold,” his teeth chattered as he tried to decide the best way of going about this.

“Merlin!”

Merlin, shamefully, almost died just at the sound of his name. And it wasn’t even Arthur calling him.

“Leon?” Merlin gaped slightly, unsure why as it wasn’t really a surprise to see him there.

“Morgana told me you’d just arrived.”

“Yeah,” Merlin tried to sound casual and completely unlike he’d just spent eight hours in a car in the vague hope of tracking down the heir to the throne. “I think she might have given the guard at the gate an earful.”

“They’re used to it,” Leon grinned slightly. “Look, you should come inside it’s freezing out here. I was just about to go out and try and track Arthur down.”

Merlin frowned. “He’s not inside?”

Leon shook his head. “Merlin, he has no idea you’re here. Honestly, I don’t think he was expecting to hear from you. Not any time soon, anyway.”

“Where is he?”

“Just out for a walk,” Leon replied. “He left as soon as he got out of the car. I think he just wanted some space.”

“So you know that he…” Merlin trailed off with a wave of his hand.

“Talked to Uther?” Leon asked and Merlin nodded. “Yes, he told me. Arthur doesn’t really know what to think about Uther’s response; it wasn’t the explosive argument he’d prepared himself for.”

Merlin sighed quietly. “I’ll go and find him.”

“He could be anywhere.” Leon shrugged.

“No, he couldn’t,” Merlin replied.

Leon nodded slowly. “At least come and put some more layers on first.”

“Alright,” Merlin agreed, “But I’m going on my own, Leon. I can’t talk to him if I know you’re – and I mean this without any offence – hovering nearby.”

“Okay,” Leon chuckled slightly as he herded Merlin through the door. “But Merlin, seriously…”

“Hmm?”

“He’ll be glad you’re here.”

 

**ooOOoo**

Merlin started to hate his plan even more when he found himself squinting at the rough track through the small wooded area that he  _hoped_ would lead him to the boathouse. The torch Leon had given him wasn’t particularly effective under the cover of the trees, at least when he was out in the open he’d had the light of the almost-full moon to help him avoid tripping over. Well, to help him avoid tripping over more than twice.

He almost pumped a fist in the air in celebration when he staggered out of the woods and the boathouse came into view; but then he realised that he’d never pumped the air in his life, and now wasn’t the time to start.

There was a soft glow coming through the windows of the boathouse and Merlin’s heart stuttered slightly in his chest in response. He switched off the torch and carefully made his way to the white door. He thought abo ut knocking, but his hand made the decision for him as it pressed down on the handle and pulled the door back.

Arthur, a very startled Arthur, was sitting on the beanbag in the corner of the room with a few blankets draped over his shoulders as he shivered in the cold air.

“Merlin?” Arthur blinked in surprise.

Merlin stood in the doorway, staring stupidly for a long moment. “Hi.”

Arthur stumbled to his feet, a leg getting momentarily tangled in a blanket at the sudden movement, His cheeks reddened slightly in embarrassment and Merlin couldn’t stop the fond smile that sprang to his lips at the sight.

“You’re an idiot,” Merlin said.

Arthur’s face crumpled from embarrassed-but-hopeful to slightly distressed. “Pardon?”

Merlin’s smile grew wider as he dropp ed the torch to the ground. “I said, you’re an idiot.”

Arthur nodded his head slowly. “Right?”

“But I’m an idiot too,” Merlin added, taking a step towards Arthur. “And the thing is, Arthur…I’m very, very much your idiot.”

Arthur took a hesitant step towards Merlin. “ _My_  idiot?”

“Your idiot,” Merlin confirmed immediately.

The smile that lit up Arthur’s face was unlike any of the others Merlin had catalogued and filed away. The Prince let out one shaky breath before crossing to Merlin in two strides and wrapping his arms around him.

“Christ, Merlin,” Arthur whispered into Merlin’s neck as he clung to him. “God, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I know, I know,” Merlin said as he brought his own arms up to smooth gentle cir cles into Arthur’s back. “I’m sorry too.”

Arthur pulled back slightly. “I really did tell my father.”

“I know,” Merlin nodded, he curled his fingers into the hair at Arthur’s nape. “He wasn’t angry?”

Arthur stilled. “I wouldn’t say that. But he wasn’t surprised.”

“Arthur,” Merlin breathed, unsure of what to say.

“I told him that I loved you,” Arthur began to explain, a slight smile in the corner of his lips. “That I  _still_  loved you. That you are as important to me as my mother was to him.”

Merlin’s chin did wobble slightly at that, despite his efforts to remain still.

“You are,” Arthur said quietly, running his knuckles lightly against Merlin’s cheekbones, “the most important thing to me, and I will do whatever it takes to make you happy. I’d give up the throne if it meant I could keep you.”

Merlin didn’t try to stop the tears that sprang into his eyes at that, his heart stopping for a long moment as he processed Arthur’s words. “I would never ask you to do that,” he whispered.

“I’d do it anyway,” Arthur replied as he nudged his nose gently against Merlin’s

“I love you.” Merlin’s words were soft, but there was a hint of desperation about them. “I shouldn’t have run away, but I-“

“It’s okay,” Arthur sighed. “It wasn’t exactly the best time to-“

Merlin cut him off by pressing their lips together. His magic rushed through his veins on contact, warming him through when he felt Arthur sigh against him. The Prince stilled slightly.

“I felt that,” Arthur mumbled against Me rlin’s mouth.

“What?”

“It was warm all of a sudden,” Arthur punctuated his words with small kisses. “Was it magic?”

“Yes,” Merlin whispered.

Arthur didn’t say anything else, just trailed the tip of his tongue along the bow of Merlin’s lips, Merlin knowing that he would be able to taste salt there now.

“Oh God, please don’t cry,” Arthur mumbled as he stayed pressed to Merlin’s lip but drew the pads of his thumbs under Merlin’s eyes to collect tears. “Please,  _please_ , don’t cry.”

“I’m not,” Merlin sniffled, still unwilling to stop kissing.

Arthur laughed slightly and pulled back. He surveyed Merlin, who was doing an admirable job of not falling apart, for a long moment. “You really have no idea how much I love you.”

Merlin fell apart. He grabbed at Arthur’s coat collar and drew him in for a bruising kiss, one hand tangling in the Prince’s hair, while the other trailed down to rest against his hip. He mumbled the only word in his mind, over and over again.  _Arthur._

“Merlin,” Arthur gasped slightly when he eventually pulled away. “We should go back to the house.”

Merlin nodded as Arthur tangled their fingers together. “I think that’s probably a very good idea.”

 

**ooOOoo**

Arthur was beaming at Merlin; a great, big sloppy grin that was all the more endearing for the way his hair was sticking up in blond tufts. The Prince’s cheeks were pink and he still had one hand tangled in Merlin’s hair.

“I love you,” Merlin pressed a soft kiss to the inside of Arthur’s wrist, before breaking out into his own stupid smile. “I’m glad I’m here.”

“Good,” Arthur laughed lightly. “Because otherwise this would be quite awkward.” He gestured at the duvet that was tangled around them messily.

“I’ve got a present for you,” Merlin said a few seconds later, leaning slightly off the bed to retrieve his duffel coat from the floor. “It’s only small, but you have to like it or you’re a heartless prat.”

“Oh thanks,  _Mer_ lin, that’s very festive of you.” The roll of Arthur's eyes was apparent in his voice, nevertheless he pressed a kiss to Merlin’s shoulder before the other boy nudged him out of the way so they could settle back against the pillows.

“Merry Christmas,” Merlin grinned as he produced a share-size bag of Maltesers from his coat pocket, followed by two tubes of Rolos.

Arthur looked slightly taken aback, a wave of fondness sweeping across his features when he looked back up at Merlin. “Thank you.”

Merlin felt himself blush. It had seemed more amusing when he’d been trapped in a queue at the petrol station. “I know it’s stupid, but they remind me of you a-“

Arthur silenced him by pressing two fingers to his lips. “Thank you, Merlin.”

Merlin just smiled stupidly again as Arthur moved the chocolate onto the bedside table.

“Now,” Arthur sa id, biting his lip. “I’ve got you a present too.”

Merlin frowned. “But-“

“I was allowed to  _hope_  that you might turn up,” Arthur blushed slightly. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Arthur rolled out from under the duvet, collecting a blanket from the bed and wrapping it around his waist in one swift movement.

“That was actually quite impressive,” Merlin laughed.

“I’m a Prince, Merlin,” Arthur grinned. “I have to be prepared for whoever might show up at my door.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Merlin shook his head as Arthur headed to the door.

Arthur just beamed at him one more time before disappearing out of the room.

Merlin looked at his surroundings. He couldn’t believe he was back here. After everything t hat had happened this had seemed like the remotest of possibilities; one that he had never let himself dwell on too much during the time he and Arthur were apart.

Arthur was back within a couple of minutes. He had two familiar ivory envelopes in his hand which he kept hold of as he crawled back in under the duvet.

“Just…” Arthur trailed off as he handed Merlin one of the envelopes. “Just bear with me.”

“Okay,” Merlin said slowly. He peeled the envelope open and was surprised to see a fairly thick bundle of paper inside. He extracted the sheets from inside, his eyes widening as he read the title. He almost dropped the paper in surprise. “This is a contract?”

Arthur nodded. “Morgana wants you to work with her. I know she’s spoken to you about it before, and honestly Merlin it was never a pity-offer. She needs someone good with words.”

“I’m terrible with words,” Merlin shook his head. “You tell me that all the time.”

“Yeah, but I’m an idiot, remember?” Arthur nudged his shoulder with a grin. “She wants someone who can write well, but who is also creative enough to come up with better ways of doing things. You’d be  _brilliant_ Merlin, you really would.”

Merlin stared, completely stunned at the actual, genuine offer of employment in his hands. “It’s in London.”

“Yes,” Arthur replied, looking suddenly nervous. “Which leads me to this.” He passed the second envelope over.

Merlin took this one with more hesitation as he watched Arthur’s expression shift. Peering inside he could see more typed pages.  _Lots_  of typed pages. “Arthur, did you have some unfortunate soul at Clarence House typing things up for a week? Did poor Mordred have to do this?”

“Just see what it is,  _Mer_ lin,” Arthur said in exasperated fondness, tapping the bottom of the envelope to get Merlin to hurry up.

This time Merlin did drop the paper. “Okay, Arthur,” he breathed. “Explain now.”

Arthur cleared his throat and twined their fingers together. “I don’t want you to stay in Wales,” he said in a rush. “I want you to be in London. If we were in any way in a  _normal_  relationship…” he trailed off and look at Merlin, sudden doubt on his face.

“Yes, Arthur,” Merlin rolled his eyes slightly. “I think we can safely say we’re in a relationship.” He was the one to gesture at the duvet this time.

“Right, of course,” Arthur coughed again as the Colin Firth voice made a momentary reappearance. “”If we were in a  _normal_ relati onship I could ask you to move in with me and we could get a flat together. Probably somewhere horrible, but at least we’d be together.”

Merlin smiled, biting his lip at Arthur’s rambling.

“But,” Arthur continued, “this is not normal and also…fairly unprecedented. So, we can’t get a flat together. But what I can do is give you this.” He picked up the first sheet of paper from the pile, tugging it from under the paperclip.

Merlin once again found himself looking at the sheet of paper that had nearly given him a hernia on sight. In clean type it listed the particulars of a three-bedroom townhouse in Kensington.

“It’s not quite the palace,” Arthur continued, “but it’s close enough.”

“Arthur,” Merlin breathed, his stomach fluttering wildly, “you can’t give me a  _house_. That’s ridiculous, f or one thing. And your father-“

“ _I_   _own_  the house, Merlin,” Arthur replied, squeezing his hand. “It was left in trust to me by my mother; it isn’t owned by the Crown Estate so it’s up to me what I do with it. Please say you’ll at least think about it.”

Merlin was too stunned to say anything for a long moment. Eventually he nodded dumbly as Arthur extracted the paper from his hand.

“One more thing,” Arthur said.

“No,” Merlin shook his head vehemently. “No more, Arthur,  _please._ ”

“I just wanted to give this back to you,” Arthur said quietly as he tugged his thumb ring off and dropped it in Merlin’s palm where it lay on the pillow. “You’re supposed to be looking after it for me remember?”

Merlin hesitated for a second, before sliding the famil iar band onto his own. “I haven’t been doing a very good job of that, have I?”

“No,” Arthur shook his head with a smile. “Pretty shoddy, actually. I’m not going to give a good reference to Morgana for you.”

Merlin snorted quietly as he looked back down at their joined hands.

“This isn’t going to be easy, Merlin,” Arthur said seriously after a few moments of quiet. “Once everyone knows, it’s going to be difficult to avoid the fact it will be big news.”

“I know,” Merlin sighed. “But it will be worth it.”

Silence stretched between them for a while, only the sounds of soft breathing enveloping them in their warmth.

“Arthur?” Merlin asked quietly.

“Yes, Merlin?”

“Are you sure you’re okay about…” Merli n trailed off. “About my magic?”

Arthur put his hands on either side of Merlin’s face, his right hand tracing lightly over the scar on Merlin’s arm first. “I was stupid, Merlin, because I didn’t understand. But I want to know everything. I want to make better choices than my father has.”

“You’re sure?” Merlin asked quietly, his eyes never leaving Arthur’s. “Even if it means going against everything your father believes in?”

Arthur pressed his lips to Merlin’s gently as he nodded. “I don't know what will happen. But I know in my heart I've made the right decision.”

Merlin rested his forehead against Arthur’s as he smiled.

* * *

Beneath Hyde Park a cantankerous dragon sighed in relief.


	38. Coda

**_ Three hours to go _ **

“Er…Arthur?” Merlin called, a mince pie paused halfway between his plate and his mouth.

“Mmm?”

“Come here.”

“What?” Arthur appeared in the doorframe, a bowl of brandy butter in one hand and a spoon in the other. “I haven’t found the coffee yet.”

Merlin didn’t respond verbally. He just pointed at the programme guide he’d brought up on the TV.

Arthur frowned as he walked towards Merlin and deposited the brandy butter on the coffee table. He looked at the TV screen and his eyes widened. “Oh fuck.”

“ _Oh fuck_  is right!” Merlin waved his arm, mince pie crumbs tumbling through the air and onto the carpet. The words on the screen weren’t changing, no matter how many times he looked at them.

**20:00 BBC Two – Coming of Age: A documentary exploring HRH The Prince of Wales' years at Albion University. Featuring candid interviews with friends and relatives of the Prince, including close friend and hero Merlin Emrys.**

“ _Close friend and_   _hero_?” Arthur cried disbelievingly.

“ _Arthur_ ,” Merlin threw his hands up, and the pie finally escaped his clutches. “That is not the point. Why -no -  _how_  is this on TV?”

“ _Mer_ lin!” Arthur shook his head as he retrieved the half-eaten mince pie from where it had landed next to his foot.

“It’s an  _actual_ documentary!” Merlin cried, his hands covering his face. “Jesus, Jesus, Christ, Arthur.”

Arthur sat on the coffee table and pulled Merlin’s hands away from his face. “I guess Annis decided it wouldn’t do to waste the publicity.”

“But…” Merlin trailed off and bit his lip. “Arthur, how are they going to explain the fact that one of the most prominent journalists in England has disappeared? What if…?”

“Just,” Arthur let go of Merlin’s hands and handed him the bowl of brandy butter and the spoon, “eat that. I’ll be r ight back.”

“I don’t  _like_  brandy butter,” Merlin mumbled, but shovelled a spoon of it into his mouth anyway.

Arthur rolled his eyes and pulled his phone out of his pocket and left the room.

Merlin looked at his watch. It was five o’clock and he hadn’t heard from anyone about it yet. Maybe they wouldn’t n-

His phone ringing didn’t even startle him. He sighed heavily and dropped the spoon into the bowl before answering Gwen’s call.

“It’s on TV?” Gwen shrieked, ignoring the need for a greeting.

“Apparently so,” Merlin grumbled.

“I thought it wasn’t real,” Gwen replied. “How can it be on TV if…?”

“I have no idea,” Merlin replied. “We’ve only just noticed it’s on.”

“Oh, so your mum is freaking out?”

“I have no idea,” Merlin replied.

“But you said  _we_ ,” Gwen said slowly.

“Arthur,” Merlin replied, before clamping his mouth shut quickly.

“Merlin?” Gwen asked in the voice she usually reserved for discovering if Lance had eaten the final few biscuits.

 _Fuuuuuuck,_  Merlin screamed in his head. Hadn’t planned on telling Gwen about Arthur just yet.

“Yes Gwen?” he asked as innocently as possible.

“Where are you?”

“I’m sitting on the sofa freaking out about the fact my face is going to be on national television in three hours time!”

“ _Merlin_ ,” Gwen warned.

“Okay fine,” Merlin hissed. “I’m with Arthur.”

“As in  _with_  Arthur, or  _with_  Arthur?” Gwen asked, the squeal barely contained.

“Gwen, you can’t imply italics twice,” Merlin grumbled.

“Bloody hell, Merlin,” Gwen was grinning, Merlin could tell. She’d clearly jumped to her own conclusions and was quite happy with what she’d come up with. “Are you at Sandringham again?”

Merlin’s phone beeped in his ear t o alert him to a call waiting. “Hang on, Gwen.” He looked at the screen of the phone.  _Oh bloody, bloody, bloody hell._

**_Mum_ **

“Gwen, I have to go.” Merlin spoke hurriedly, ignoring her protests. “No, seriously, I have to go. I’ll call you later.” He ended the call with Gwen and switched to the other line. “Hi, Mum.”

“Merlin Emrys,” Hunith yelled over the phone and Merlin winced. He thought he probably would have heard her screeching all the way from Ealdor without the need for the phone. “Why have I just had Nerys at the door asking me if she can come round and watch you on the telly tonight?”

“Um…” Merlin swallowed loudly.

“Why didn’t I know about this?”

“Because I didn’t know about it?” Merlin tried.

“Don’t try and be clever, Merlin,” Hunith grumbled.

“I’m not,” Merlin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know about it. I promise.”

“Hmm.”

Merlin’s phone beeped in his ear.  _Oh bloody fuck’s sake, who now? **Morgana.**_

“Mum, can I call yo u back later?”

“ _Merlin_.”

“Mum, please. Morgana’s calling me. She might know what’s going on.”

“Hmm,” Hunith repeated. “Later, Merlin. Otherwise I’ll need to have a word with that young man of yours instead.”

 _Christ, no way._ “I promise I’ll call you back in a minute.”

“Hmm. I love you.”

“Love you too,” Merlin replied quickly, switching calls once more.

“Please tell me you and Arthur knew about this.” Morgana became the third person to ignore all usual rules of greeting.

“Morgana,” Merlin sighed, looking round desperately for Arthur. “No, we didn’t know.”

“Uther seems quite calm about it,” Morgana replied. “Then again he doesn’t know you’re currently shacked up in Balmoral with the heir to the throne.”

“Morgana,” Merlin sighed again. No sign of Arthur.  _Fuck_ , this was going to be a long evening.

 

* * *

**_ Two hours to go _ **

“Annis thinks it’s a good idea. Here.” Arthur passed a gin and tonic to Merlin.

“You can’t pacify me with gin, Arthur.” Merlin accepted the glass and took a gulp anyway.

“It can’t be that bad,” Arthur shrugged. “You didn’t say anything to her.” Arthur shivered slightly at the mention of  _her_.

Merlin groaned. “Arthur, I don’t know what I said. I wasn’t really thinking.”

“Annis will have vetoed anything that looked bad,” Arthur stated calmly, although he winced slightly when Merlin glared at him.

“She’ll have vetoed anything that makes  _you_  look bad,” Merlin narrowed his eyes.

Arthur’s phone ringing shrilly surprised them both.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Arthur breathed as he looked at the caller id.

“What?” Merlin’s stomach dropped.

“It’s my father.”

* * *

**_ One hour to go _ **

“Arthur!” Merlin grumbled as grabbed the prince’s hand. “Stop pacing. You’re making me nervous.”

“Why would he say that, Merlin?” Arthur stopped his relentless march around the room.

“He said ‘I hope you’re going to watch it’,” Merlin replied. “That’s really not as cryptic as you’re making it out to be.”

“It wasn’t  _what_  he said, Merlin,” Arthur’s pacing started up again as Merlin dropped his hand, “it was the way he said it.”

“You’re not even in it,” Merlin replied. “Well, not really.”

“Why does he want me to watch it?” Arthur was ignoring Merlin.

“Oh bloody hell.” Merlin dropped his head into his hands as he ignored Arthur.

“There must be something,” Arthur muttered as he came to a standstill again.

“Right, that’s it!” Merlin announced standing up. “Come on!”

Arthur didn’t protest as he was pulled out of the room.

* * *

**_ Five minutes to go _ **

“Merlin, if you even dare look at that phone, I’m putting you in a car and sending you straight back to Wales.” Arthur glared pointedly as Merlin pretended he hadn’t been casually reaching into his coat pocket to get his phone out.

“Like you’d do that,” Merlin grinned, but he left the phone where it was.

“Don’t tempt me,” Arthur laughed as he pulled Merlin closer to him, pulling blankets up around them as they huddled in the corner.

They were sitting in the boathouse again. Merlin had decided the best thing to do would be to completely avoid watching the documentary and there would be absolutely no temptation to do so if they were in a building with no electricity.

This plan had worked really well until he’d remembered they could watch TV on their phones. Now the temptation was driving him mad.

“Arthur,” Merlin laughed slightly as he shivered, “couldn’t you possibly have found a secret hideaway with heating? O r at least a light?”

“We’ve got a light,” Arthur grinned, holding up the pathetically weak torch he’d grabbed as Merlin had frogmarched him out of the house. The beam did nothing more than cast a slightly eerie light across Arthur’s features.

“You look like a ghost,” Merlin was aiming for a joke, but there was something he didn’t like about seeing Arthur’s face like that.

“What?” Arthur asked, frowning as he lay the torch back down on the blankets between them.

“Nothing,” Merlin shivered again, but this time it wasn’t from the cold. “I don’t know. I’m just being ridiculous.”

“Hmm,” Arthur shook his head slightly. “Look, if we’re going to sit in the dark, can we do something to amuse ourselves?”

“ _Arthur_ ,” Merlin warned, “I’m not taking so much as my gloves off.”

“No,  _Mer_ lin,” Arthur rolled his eyes, “you’re not. I wasn’t suggesting that you would.”

“Well what were you suggesting?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur shrugged. “Tell me a story or something. Or give me a lesson in poetry.”

Merlin shivered once more and he really didn’t like the way his spine was tingling. “Why would you say that?”

“Say what?”

“Poetry.”

Arthur frowned. “Are you alright? You’re suddenly odder than usual.”

“Arthur, why?” Merlin asked carefully as a fuzzy image of a stone corridor came to mind. “Why poetry?”

“Because you’re a literature grad?” Arthur spoke slowly.

“Right,” Merlin nodded, shaking himself slightly. “Obviously.”

“Merlin?”

“I’m fine, Arthur,” Merlin smiled as brightly as he could manage. “Sorry, just having…a moment.”

“Weirdo,” Arthur rolled his eyes again.

“Shut up, Clotpole,” Merlin grinned, bumping their shoulders together.

“Clotpole again?” Arthur groaned. “Really, you haven’t come up with any new ones?”

“Well…” Merlin trailed off as if deep in thought. “I had thought about ‘dollop head’, but I was saving its grand unveiling for January.”

Arthur groaned again so Merlin kissed him. Solely to shut him up, of course.

* * *

**_ Three hours beyond _ **

Arthur was half-sprawled across Merlin, snuffling softly in his sleep as Merlin carded his fingers through the prince’s hair.

They’d managed to avoid watching the documentary, and completely ignore all calls from the outside world in favour of locking themselves in Arthur’s bedroom and watching stupid videos on the internet until Arthur had fallen asleep and almost toppled off the bed when he’d lolled too far to the right.

Merlin scrunched his face slightly so he was squinting at Arthur’s face; he looked as peaceful as he always did when he slept, but it wasn’t bringing Merlin the same contentment as usual.

Something somewhere wasn’t right and Merlin didn’t like it. His eyes flickered around the darkened room when he thought he heard a faint whisper.

A frown appeared on Arthur’s face and Merlin pressed himself closer to the prince when Arthur’s breathing lost its steady pace.

“Hush,” Merlin whispered, in the same wa y his mother always had when he’d been restless as a little boy. The whispering grew louder and Merlin was finding it increasingly difficult to convince himself it was the wind.

_Emrys._

Merlin jerked at the unknown voice, Arthur shifting next to him at the sudden movement.

_Emrys. The time is upon you. Both of you._

Merlin tried to call out to the voice, but couldn’t seem to make a connection.

_Albion’s hour of need, Emrys. You must break the cycle._

Arthur’s eyes snapped open and Merlin suddenly found himself on the end of a very intense stare.

“You’re here,” Arthur whispered, sounding somewhat disbelieving.

“Of course I am,” Merlin frowned, his voice shaking slightly.

Arthur reached up and ran a thumb across Merlin’s cheekbone. “You left me.”

“I’d never leave you,” Merlin replied automatically, as if the words weren’t his own choice.

“No, no, you wouldn’t,” Arthur whispered, his eyes wide and slightly unfocused. “I left you.”

Merlin shivered and drew Arthur closer to him. “Go back to sleep, Arthur,” he whispered eventually as his blood thrummed in his veins.

“You’re here.”

“I am,” Merlin’s mind was racing and he wanted nothing more than to simultaneously crush himself as close to Arthur as possible, but also run far, far away from all of this.

“Don’t leave me,” Arthur’s voice was already dropping back into a sleepy slur.

“Never,” Merlin whispered, pressing his cheek to the crown of Arthur’s head. “Never.”


End file.
